two orderlies) for St Nazaire; we jump out at the stations and see to
them, and the orderlies and the people on the stations feed them: we
have the worst cases next to us. We may get there some time to-morrow
morning, and when they are taken off, we train back, arriving probably
on Wednesday at Le Mans. The lot on this train are the best leavings of
to-day's trains,--a marvellously cheery lot, munching bread and jam and
their small share of hot tea, and blankets have just been issued. We
ourselves have a rug, and a ration of bread, tea, and jam; we had dinner
on the station.
When I think of your Red Cross practices on boy scouts, and the grim
reality, it makes one wonder. And the biggest wonder of it all is the
grit there is in them, and the price they are individually and
unquestioningly paying for doing their bit in this War.
_Monday, September 21st._--In train on way back to Le Mans from St
Nazaire. We did the journey in twelve hours, and arrived at 9 this
morning, which was very good, considering the congestion on the line. In
the middle of the night we pulled up alongside an immense troop train,
taking a whole Brigade of D. of Cornwall's L.I. up to the front, such a
contrast to our load coming away from the front. Our lot will be a long
time getting to bed; the Medical Officers at St N. told us there were
already two trains in, and no beds left on hospitals or ships, and 1300
more expected to-day; four died in one of the trains; ours were pretty
well, after the indescribable filth and fug of the train all night; it
was not an ambulance train, but trucks and ordinary carriages. The men
say there are hardly any officers left in many regiments. There has
never been this kind of rush to be coped with anywhere, but the Germans
must be having worse. We had thirteen German prisoners tacked on to us
with a guard of the London Scottish, the first Territorials to come out,
bursting with health and pride and keenness. They are not in the
fighting line yet, but are used as escorts for the G.P. among other
jobs. One of the men on our train had had his shoulder laid open for six
inches by a shell, where he couldn't see the wound. He asked me if it
was a bullet wound! He himself thought it was too large for that, and
might be shrapnel! He hadn't mentioned it all night.
We had some dressings to be done again this morning, and then left them
in charge of the M.O. and two orderlies, and went to report ourselves to
the A.D.M.S. and get a warrant for the return journey. We shall get in
to Le Mans somewhere about midnight. I'm not a bit tired, strange to
say; we got a few rests in the night, but couldn't sleep.
_Tuesday, September 22nd._--Got back to Le Mans at 2
A.M.--motor-ambulanced up to the hospital, where an orderly made lovely
beds for us on stretchers, with brown blankets and pillows, in the
theatre, and labelled the door "Operation," in case any one should
disturb us. At 6 we went to our respective diggings for a wash and
breakfast, and reported to Matron at 8. We have been two days and two
nights in our clothes; food where, when, and what one could get; one
wash only on a station platform at a tap which a sergeant kindly pressed
for me while I washed! one cleaning of teeth in the dark on the line
between trucks. They have no water on trains or at stations, except on
the engine, which makes tea in cans for you for the men when it stops.
We are to rest to-day, to be ready for another train to-night if
necessary. The line from the front to Rouen--where there are two General
Hospitals--is cut; hence this appalling over-crowding at our base. When
we got back this morning, nine of those we took off the trains on Sunday
afternoon had died here, and one before he reached the hospital--three
of tetanus. I haven't heard how many at the other hospital at the Jesuit
school--tetanus there too. Some of the amputations die of septic
absorption and shock, and you wouldn't wonder if you saw them. I went to
the 9 o'clock Choral High Mass this morning at that glorious and
beautiful Cathedral--all gorgeous old glass and white and grey stone,
slender Gothic and fat Norman. It was very fine and comforting.
The sick officers are frightfully pleased to see 'The Times,' no matter
how old; so are we. I've asked M. to collect their 1/2d. picture daily
papers once a week for the men.
_Wednesday, September 23rd._--Have been helping in the wards at
No.-- to-day. The Sisters and orderlies there have all about twice what
they can get through--the big dressings are so appalling and new cases
have been coming in--all stretcher cases. As soon as they begin to
recover at all they are sent down to the base to make room for worse
ones off the trains. To-morrow I am on station duty again--possibly for
another train.
There is a rumour that three British cruisers have been sunk by a
submarine--it can't be true.
I don't see why this battle along the French frontier should ever come
to an end, at any rate till both armies are exhausted, and decide to go
to bed. The men say we can't spot their guns--they are too well hidden
in these concrete entrenchments.
The weather is absolutely glorious all day, and the stars all night.
Orion, with his shining bodyguard, from Sirius to Capella, is blazing
every morning at 4.
_Thursday, September 24th_, 3 P.M.--Taking 480 sick and wounded down to
St Nazaire, with a junior staff nurse, one M.O., and two orderlies. Just
been feeding them all at Angers; it is a stupendous business. The train
is miles long--not corridor or ambulance; they have straw to lie on the
floors and stretchers. The M.O. has been two nights in the train already
on his way down from the front (four miles from the guns), and we joined
on to him with a lot of hospital cases sent down to the base. I've been
collecting the worst ones into carriages near ours all the way down
when we stop; but of course you miss a good many. Got my haversack lined
with jaconet and filled with cut-dressings, very convenient, as you have
both hands free. We continually stop at little stations, so you can get
to a good many of them, and we get quite expert at clawing along the
footboards; some of the men, with their eyes, noses, or jaws shattered,
are so extraordinarily good and uncomplaining. Got hold of a
spout-feeder and some tubing at Angers for a boy in the Grenadier
Guards, with a gaping hole through his mouth to his chin, who can't eat,
and cannot otherwise drink. The French people bring coffee, fruit, and
all sorts of things to them when we stop.
We shall have to wait at St Nazaire all day, and come back by night
to-morrow.
One swanky Ambulance Train carries four permanent Sisters to the front
to fetch cases to Le Mans and the Base. They go to Villeneuve. They say
the country is deserted, crops left to waste, houses empty, and when you
get there no one smiles or speaks, but listens to the guns. The men seem
to think the Germans have got our range, but we haven't found theirs.
The number of casualties must be nearly into five figures this last
battle alone; and when you think of the Russians, the Germans, the
French, the Austrians, and the Belgians all like that, the whole
convulsion seems more meaningless than ever for civilised nations.
This is in scraps, owing to the calls of duty. The beggars simply swarm
out of the train at every stop--if they can limp or pull up by one
arm--to get the fruit and things from the French.
_Friday, September 25th._--In train back to Le Mans, 9 P.M. We landed
our tired, stiff, painful convoy at St Nazaire at 8.45 yesterday
evening. The M.O.'s there told us our lot made 1800 that had come down
since early morning; one load of bad cases took eight hours to unload.
The officers all seemed depressed and overworked, and they were having a
very tight fit to get beds for them at the various hospitals at St
Nazaire. At about 10 P.M. the last were taken off by the motor
ambulances, and we got some dinner on the station with our Civil
Surgeon, who was looking forward to a night in a tent out of a train.
The R.T.O. found us an empty 1st class carriage in the station to sleep
in, and the sergeant found us a candle and matches and put us to bed,
after a sketchy wash provided by the buffet lady.
The din was continuous all night, so one didn't sleep much, but had a
decent rest (and a flea). The sergeant called us at 6.30, and we had
another sketchy wash, and coffee and rolls and jam at the buffet. Then
we found our way to the hospital ship _Carisbrook Castle_. The Army
Sister in charge was most awfully kind, showed us over, made the steward
turn on hot baths for us, provided notepaper, kept us to lunch--the
nicest meal we've seen for weeks! The ship had 500 cases on board, and
was taking 200 more--many wounded officers.
A captain of the ---- told me all his adventures from the moment he was
hit till now. His regiment had nine officers killed and twenty-seven
wounded. He said they knew things weren't going well in that retreat,
but they never knew how critical it was at the time.
After lunch, we took our grateful leave and went to the A.D.M.S.'s
office for our return warrants for the R.T.O. (I have just had to sign
it for fourteen, as senior officer of our two selves and twelve A.S.C.
men taking two trucks of stores, who have no officer with them!) There
we heard that ten of our No.-- Sisters were ordered to Nantes for duty
by the 4.28, so we hied back to the station to meet them and see them
off. They were all frightfully glad to be on the move at last, and we
had a great meeting. The rest are still bathing at La Baule and cursing
their luck.
While we were getting some coffee in the only _patisserie_ in the dirty
little town, seven burly officer boys of the Black Watch came in to buy
cakes for the train, they said, to-night. They were nearly all second
lieutenants, one captain, and were so excited at going up to the Front
they couldn't keep still. They asked us eagerly if we'd had many of "our
regiment" wounded, and how many casualties were there, and how was the
fighting going, and how long would the journey take. (The nearer you get
to the Front the longer it takes, as trains are always having to shunt
and go round loops to make room for supply trains.) They didn't seem to
have the dimmest idea what they're in for, bless them. They are on this
train in the next carriage.
The Padre told me he was the only one at St Nazaire for all the
hospitals and all the troops in camp (15,000 in one camp alone).
He had commandeered the Bishop of Khartoum to help him, and another
bishop, who both happen to be here.
We are now going to turn out the light, and hope for the best till they
come to look at the warrant or turn us out to change.
6 A.M.--At Sablé at 4 A.M. we were turned out for two hours; a wee open
station. Mr ---- and our Civil Surgeon were most awfully decent to us:
turned a sleepy official out of a room for us, and at 5 came and dug us
out to have coffee and _brioches_ with them. Then we went for a sunrise
walk round the village, and were finally dragged into their carriage, as
they thought it was more comfortable than ours. Just passed a big French
ambulance train full from Compiègne.
At Le Mans the train broke up again, and everybody got out. We
motor-ambulanced up to the Hospital with the three night Sisters coming
off station duty. Matron wanted us to go to bed for the day; but we
asked to come on after lunch, as they were busy and we weren't
overtired. I'm realising to-night that I have been on the train four
nights out of six, and bed is bliss at this moment.
I was sent to No.-- Stationary at the Jesuits' College to take over the
officers at one o'clock.
One was an angelic gunner boy with a septic leg and an undaunted smile,
except when I dressed his leg and he said "Oh, damn!" The other bad one
was wounded in the shoulder. They kept me busy till Sister ---- came
back, and then I went to my beloved Cathedral (and vergered some
Highland Tommies round it, they had fits of awe and joy over it, and
grieved over "Reems"). It is awfully hard to make these sick officers
comfortable, with no sheets or pillow-cases, no air ring-cushions,
pricky shirts, thick cups without saucers, &c. One longs for the medical
comforts of ----
I hear to-night that Miss ----, the Principal Matron on the Lines of
Communication (on the War Establishment Staff) is here again, and may
have a new destination for some of us details.
The heading in 'Le Matin' to-night is:--
UNE LUTTE ACHARNÉE DE LA SOMME A LA MEUSE LA BATAILLE REDOUBLE DE
VIOLENCE
If it redoubles _de violence_ much longer who will be left?
_Sunday, September 27th._--My luck is in this time. Miss ---- has just
sent for me to tell me I am for permanent duty on No.-- Ambulance Train
(equipped) which goes up to the Front, to the nearest point on the rail
to the fighting line. Did you ever know such luck? There are four of us,
one Army Sister and me and two juniors; we live altogether on the train.
The train will always be pushed up as near the Field Hospitals as the
line gets to, whether we drive the Germans back to Berlin or they drive
us into the sea. It is now going to Braisne, a little east of Soissons,
just S. of the Aisne, N.E. of Rheims. It is on its way up now, and we
are to join it with our baggage when it stops here on the way to St
Nazaire. We shall have two days and two nights with wounded, and two
days and two nights to rest on the return empty. The work itself will be
of the grimmest possible, as we shall have all the worst cases, being an
equipped Hospital in a train. It was worth waiting five weeks to get
this; every man or woman stuck at the Base has dreams of getting to the
Front, but only one in a hundred gets the dream fulfilled.
There is no doubt that "the horrors of War" have outdone themselves by
this modern perfection of machinery killing, and the numbers involved,
as they have never done before, and as it was known they would. The
details are often unprintable. They have eight cases of tetanus at No.--
Stationary, and five have died.
All the patients at No.-- have been inoculated against tetanus to-day.
They have it in the French Hospitals too.
Went to the Voluntary Evening Service for the troops at the theatre at
5. The Padres and a Union Jack and the Allies' Flags; and a piano on the
stage; officers and sisters in the stalls; and the rest packed tight
with men: they were very reverent, and nearly took the roof off in the
Hymns, Creed, and Lord's Prayer. Excellent sermon. We had the War
Intercessions and a good prayer I didn't know, ending with "Strengthen
us in life, and comfort us in death." The men looked what they were,
British to the bone; no one could take them for any other nation a mile
off. Clean, straight, thin, sunburnt, clear-eyed, all at their Active
Service best, no pallid rolls of fat on their faces like the French. The
man who preached must have liked talking to them in that pin-dropped
silence and attention; he evidently knows his opportunities.
_Monday, September 28th._--There are hundreds of people in deep new
black in this town; what must it be in Berlin? The cemetery here is
getting full of French and British soldiers' graves. Those 1200 sailors
from the three cruisers had fine clean quick deaths compared to what
happens here.
We have got our baggage (kit-bags and holdalls) down to the station at
the Red Cross Anglaise, and are sitting in our quarters waiting for the
word to come that No.-- train is in. Met Miss ---- in her car in the
town, and she said that it was just possible that the train might go
down to Havre this journey, she wasn't dead sure it was doing this
route! If so we shall be nicely and completely sold, as I don't know how
we should ever join it. But I'm not going to believe in such bad luck as
that would be till it happens.
_Tuesday, September 29th._--We _were_ sold last night after all. Trailed
down to the station to await the train according to orders, and were
then told by the A.D.M.S. that it had gone to Havre this journey, and
couldn't be on this line till next week, and we could go to bed. So
after all the embraces of Mme. and Fanny and Isabel, I turned up at
10.30 to ask for a bed. "Ma pauvre demoiselle," said fat F., hastening
to let me in.
This morning Miss ---- came down with us to the A.D.M.S.'s Office to
find out how we could join the train, and he said: "Wait till it comes
in next week, and meanwhile go on duty at the Hospital." I don't mind
anything as long as we do eventually get on to the train, and we are to
do that, so one must possess one's soul in patience. I am back with the
sick officers at No.-- Stationary.
There are rumours to-night of bad news from the front, and that the
German Navy is emerging from Kiel.
_Wednesday, September 30th._--Have been doing the sick officers all day
(or rather wounded). They are quite nice, but the lack of equipment
makes twice the work. We are still having bright sunny days, but it is
getting cold, and I shall be glad of warmer clothes. The food at the
still filthy Inn in a dark outhouse through the back yard has improved a
little! My Madame (in my billet) gives me coffee and bread and butter
(of the best) at 7, and there is a ration tin of jam, and I have
acquired a pot of honey.
_On duty at_ 7.30 A.M.--At 12 or 1 we go to the Inn for _déjeûner_: meat
of some sort, one vegetable, bread, butter, and cheese, and pears. Tea
we provide ourselves when we can.
At 7 or 8 we go to the Inn and have _pôtage_ (which is warm water with a
few stray onions or carrots in it), and tough cold meat, and sometimes a
piece of pastry (for pudding), bread, butter, and cheese, and a very
small cup of coffee, and little, rather hard pears. I am very well on it
now since they changed the bread, though pretty tired.
_Thursday, October 1st._--The sky in Mid France on October 1st is of a
blue that outblues the bluest that June or any other month can do in
l'Angleterre. It is cold in the early mornings and evenings, dazzling
all day, and shining moon by night.
The H.A.C. are all over the town: they do orderly duty at Headquarters
and all the Offices; they seem to be gentlemen in Tommy's kit; fine big
lot they are. Taking it all round, the Regular British Army on Active
Service--from hoary, beribboned Generals, decorated Staff Officers of
all ranks, other officers, and N.C.O.'s down to the humblest Tommy--is
the politest and best-mannered thing I have ever met, with few
exceptions. Wherever you are, or go, or have to wait, they come and ask
if they can do anything for you, generally with an engaging smile seize
your hand-baggage, offer you chairs and see you through generally. And
the men and N.C.O.'s are just the same, and always awfully grateful if
you can help them out with the language in any way.
This was a conversation I heard in my ward to-day. Brother of Captain
---- (wounded) visits the amputation man, and, by way of cheering him
up, sits down, gazes at his ugly bandaged stump on a pillow, and says--
"That must be the devil."
"Yes, it is," says the leg man.
"Hell," says the other, and then they both seemed to feel better and
began to talk of something else.
We had a funeral of an Orderly and a German from No.-- Sta. (both
tetanus). On grey transport waggons with big black horses, wreaths from
the Orderlies, carried by a big R.A.M.C. escort (which, of course,
escorted the German too), with Officers and Padre and two Sisters.
_Friday, October 2nd._--They continue to die every day and night at both
Hospitals, though we are taking few new cases in now.
I am frightfully attached to Le Mans as a place. The town is old and
curly, and full of lovely corners and "Places," and views and Avenues
and Gardens. The Cathedral grows more and more upon one; I have several
special spots where you get the most exquisite poems of colour and
stone, where I go and browse; it is very quiet and beautifully kept.
No.-- Sta. is also set in a jewel of a spot. A Jesuits' College, full of
cloisters covered with vines, and lawns with silver statues, shady
avenues and sunny gardens, long corridors and big halls which are the
wards; the cook-house is a camp under a splendid row of big chestnut
trees, and there is of course a chapel.
Our occupation of it is rather incongruous; there is practically no
furniture except the boys' beds, some chairs, many crucifixes and
statues, terribly primitive sanitary arrangements and water supply. We
have to boil our instruments and make their tea in the same one saucepan
in the Officers' Ward; you do without dusters, dishcloths, soap-dishes,
pillow-cases, and many other necessities in peace time.
My little Train-Junior has been taken off that job and is to rejoin her
unit, so I settled down to a prospect of the same fate (No.-- G.H. is at
Havre again! and has still not yet done any work! so you see what I've
been rescued from). I met Miss ---- to-night and asked her, and she says
I _am_ going on the train when it comes in, so I breathe again.
_Tuesday, October 6th._--I am now dividing my time between the top floor
of Tommies and five Germans and the Officers' Ward, where I relieve S.
---- for meals and off duty. There are some bad dressings in the top
ward. The five Germans are quiet, fat, and amenable, glad to exchange a
few remarks in their own language. I haven't had time to try and talk to
them, but will if I can; two of them are very badly wounded. Some of the
medical Tommies make the most of very small ailments, but the surgicals
are wonderful boys.
_Wednesday, October 7th._--I have been down to the station this evening;
heard that St Nazaire is being given up as a base, which means that no
more ambulance trains will come through.
The five Germans in my ward told me this morning that only the Reichstag
and the Kaiser wanted the War; that Russia began it, so Deutschland
_mussen_; that Deutschland couldn't win against Russia, France, England,
Belgium, and Japan; and that there were no more men in Germany to
replace the killed. They smiled peacefully at the prospect and said it
was _ganz gut_ to be going to England. They have fat, pink, ruminating,
innocent, fair faces, and are very obedient. I made one of them scrub
the floor, as the Orderly had a bad arm from inoculation, and he seemed
to enjoy it. Only one is married.
_Thursday, October 8th._--There was a very picturesque and rather
touching scene at No.-- this afternoon. They had a concert in the open
quadrangle, with vined cloisters on all four sides, and holy statues and
crucifixes about. In the middle were the audience--rows of stretchers
with contented Tommies smoking and enjoying it (some up in their
grey-blue pyjamas), and many Orderlies, some Sisters and M.O.'s and
French priests; the piano on a platform at one end.
_Friday, October 9th._--My compound fractured femur man told me how he
stopped his bullet. Some wounded Germans held up the white flag and he
went to them to help them. When he was within seven yards, the man he
was going to help shot him in the thigh. A Coldstream Guardsman with
him then split the German's head open with the butt-end of his rifle.
The wounded Tommy was eventually taken to the château of the "lidy what
killed the Editor somewhere in this country."
_Saturday, October 10th._--"Orders by Lt.-Col. ----, R.A.M.C., A.D.M.S.,
Advanced Base Headquarters, October 10th, 1914. Sister ---- will proceed
to Villeneuve Triage to-day, and on arrival will report to Major ----,
R.A.M.C, for duty on Ambulance Trains."
So it's come at last, and I have handed over my officers, and am now
installed by the R.T.O. in a 1st class carriage to myself with all my
kit, and my lovely coat and muffler, and rug and cushion, after a
pleasant dinner of tea, cheese, and ration biscuits in the Red Cross
Dressing Room, with a kind Army Sister.
The R.T.O. this time has given me (instead of 12 A.S.C. men) a highly
important envelope marked Very Urgent, to give to the Director of
Supplies, Villeneuve, whoever he is.
Change at Versailles in about six hours, so I may as well try and get
some sleep.
I was really sorry to say good-bye to my kind old Madame Bontevin, 22
Rue de la Motte, and fat Fanny, and charming Isabel, and my nice little
room--(a heavenly bed!)--and ducky little gay garden, where I've lived
for the last month; and my beloved Cathedral, and lots of the Sisters I
have got to know.