yesterday morning all the hospitals were full, and the weather was too
rough for the ships to come in and clear them, so we were ordered on to
Havre, a very long journey. A German died before we got to Abbeville,
where we put off two more very bad ones; and at Amiens we put off four
more, who wouldn't have reached Havre. About midnight something broke on
the train, and we were hung up for hours, and haven't yet got to Rouen,
so we shall have them on the train all to-morrow too, and have all the
dressings to do for the third time. One of the night orderlies has been
run in for being asleep on duty. He climbed into a top bunk (where a
Frenchman was taken off at Amiens), and deliberately covered up and went
to sleep. He was in charge of 28 patients. Another was left behind at
Boulogne, absent without leave, thinking we should unload, and the train
went off for Havre. He'll be run in too. Shows how you can't leave the
train. Just got to St Just. That looks as if we were going to empty at
Versailles instead of Havre. Lovely starlight night, but very cold.
Everybody feels pleased and honoured that Lord Roberts managed to die
with us on Active Service at Headquarters, and who would choose a better
ending to such a life?
7 A.M.--After all, we must be crawling round to Rouen for Havre; passed
Beauvais. Lovely sunrise over winter woods and frosted country. Our load
is a heavy and anxious one--344; we shall be glad to land them safely
somewhere. The amputations, fractures, and lung cases stand these long
journeys very badly.
V.
On No.-- Ambulance Train (3)
BRITISH AND INDIANS
_November 18, 1914, to December 17, 1914_
"Because of you we will be glad and gay,
Remembering you we will be brave and strong,
And hail the advent of each dangerous day,
And meet the Great Adventure with a song."
--_From a poem on_ "J.G."
V.
On No.-- Ambulance Train (3).
BRITISH AND INDIANS.
_November 18, 1914, to December 17, 1914._
The Boulogne siding--St Omer--Indian soldiers--His Majesty King
George--Lancashire men on the War--Hazebrouck--Bailleul--French
engine-drivers--Sheepskin coats--A village in N.E. France--Headquarters.
_Wednesday, November 18th_, 2 P.M.--At last reached beautiful Rouen,
through St Just, Beauvais, and up to Sergueux, and down to Rouen. From
Sergueux through Rouen to Havre is supposed to be the most beautiful
train journey in France, which is saying a good deal. Put off some more
bad cases here; a boy sergeant, aged 24, may save his eye and general
blood-poisoning if he gets irrigated quickly. You can watch them going
wrong, with two days and two nights on the train, and it seems such
hard luck. And then if you don't write Urgent or Immediate on their
bandages in blue pencil, they get overlooked in the rush into hospital
when they are landed. So funny to be going back to old Havre, that hot
torrid nightmare of Waiting-for-Orders in August. But, thank Heaven, we
don't stop there, but back to the guns again.
5 P.M.--We are getting on for Havre at last. This long journey from
Belgium down to Havre has been a strange mixture. Glorious country with
the flame and blue haze of late autumn on hills, towns, and valleys,
bare beech-woods with hot red carpets. Glorious British Army lying
broken in the train--sleep (or the chance of it) three hours one night
and four the next, with all the hours between (except meals) hard work
putting the British Army together again; haven't taken off my puttees
since Sunday. Seems funny, 400 people (of whom four are women and about
sixty are sound) all whirling through France by special train. Why?
Because of the Swelled Head of the All-Highest.
We had a boy with no wound, suffering from shock from shell bursts. When
he came round, if you asked him his name he would look fixedly at you
and say "Yes." If you asked him something else, with a great effort he
said "Mother."
8 P.M.--Got to Havre.
_Wednesday, 18th November_, 6 P.M.--Sotteville, near Rouen. This
afternoon's up-journey between Havre and Rouen has been a stripe of pure
bliss with no war about it at all. A brilliant dazzling day (which our
Island couldn't do if it tried in November), rugs, coat, and cushion on
your bed, and the most heavenly view unrolling itself before you without
lifting your head to see it, ending up with the lights of Rouen
twinkling in the smoke of the factory chimneys under a flaring red
sunset.
We are to stop here for repairs to the train--chauffage, electric light,
water supply, and gas all to be done. Then we shall be a very smart
train. The electric light and the heating will be the greatest help--a
chapel and a bathroom I should like added!
At Havre last night the train ran into the Gare Maritime (where we left
in the _Asturias_ for St Nazaire early in September), which is
immediately under the great place that No.-- G.H. bagged for their
Hospital in August. I ran up and saw it all. It is absolutely first
class. There were our people off the train in lovely beds, in huge
wards, with six rows of beds--clean sheets, electric light, hot food,
and all the M.O.'s, Sisters, and Nursing Orderlies, in white overalls,
hard at work on them--orderlies removing their boots and clothing (where
we hadn't done it, we leave as much on as we can now because of the
cold). Sisters washing them and settling them in, and with the M.O.
doing their dressings, all as busy as bees, only stopping to say to us,
"Aren't they brave?" They said we'd brought them an awfully bad lot, and
we said we shed all the worst on the way. They don't realise that by the
time they get to the base these men are beyond complaining; each stage
is a little less infernal to them than the one they've left; and instead
of complaining, they tell you how lovely it is! It made one realise the
grimness of our stage in it--the emergencies, the makeshifts, and the
little four can do for nearly 400 in a train--with their greatest
output. We each had 80 lying-down cases this journey.
We got to bed about 11 and didn't wake till nearly 9, to the sound of
the No.-- G.H. bugle, Come to the Cook-house door, boys.
_Thursday, November 19th._--Spent the day in a wilderness of railway
lines at Sotteville--sharp frost; walk up and down the lines all
morning; horizon bounded by fog. This afternoon raw, wet, snowing, slush
outside. If it is so deadly cold on this unheated train, what do they do
in the trenches with practically the same equipment they came out with
in August? Can't last like that. Makes you feel a pig to have a big
coat, and hot meals, and dry feet. I've made a fine foot muff with a
brown blanket; it is twelve thicknesses sewn together; have still got
only summer underclothing. My winter things have been sent on from
Havre, but the parcel has not yet reached me; hope the foot muff will
ward off chilblains. Got a 'Daily Mail' of yesterday. We heard of the
smash-up of the Prussian Guard from the people who did it, and had some
of the P.G. on our train. Ypres is said to be full of German wounded who
will very likely come to us.
_Friday, November 20th_, 10 A.M., _Boulogne._--Deep snow.
_Boulogne, Saturday, November 21st._--In the siding all yesterday and
to-day. Train to be cut down from 650 tons to 450, so we are
reconstructing and putting off waggons. It will reduce our number of
patients, but we shall be able to do more for a smaller number, and the
train will travel better and not waste time blocking up the stations and
being left in sidings in consequence. The cold this week has been
absolutely awful. The last train brought almost entirely cases of
rheumatism. Their only hope at the Front must be hot meals, and I expect
the A.S.C. sees that they get them somehow.
A troop train of a very rough type of Glasgow men, reinforcing the
Highlanders, was alongside of us early yesterday morning; each truck had
a roaring fire of coke in a pail. They were in roaring spirits; it was
icy cold.
My winter things arrived from Havre yesterday, so I am better equipped
against the cold. Also, this morning an engine gave us an hour or two's
chauffage just at getting-up time, which was a help.
_Sunday, November 22nd._--Left B. early this morning and got to Merville
about midday. Loaded up and got back to B. in the night. Many wounded
Germans and a good lot of our sick, knocked over by the cold. I don't
know how any of them stick it. Five bombs were dropped the day before
where we were to-day, and an old man was killed. Things are being badly
given away by spies, even of other nationalities. Some men were sleeping
in a cellar at Ypres to avoid the bombardment, with some refugees. In
the night they missed two of them. They were found on the roof
signalling to the Germans with flash-lights. In the morning they paid
the penalty.
The frost has not broken, and it is still bitterly cold.
_Tuesday, November 24th._--Was up all Sunday night; unloaded early at
Boulogne. Had a bath on a ship and went to bed. Stayed in siding all
day.
_Wednesday, November 25th._--Left B. about 9.30.
Last night at dinner our charming debonair French garçon was very drunk,
and spilt the soup all over me! There was a great scene in French. The
fat fatherly corporal (who has a face and expression exactly like the
Florentine people in Ghirlandaio's Nativities, and who has the manners
of a French aristocrat on his way to the guillotine) tried to control
him, but it ended in a sort of fight, and poor Charles got the sack in
the end, and has been sent back to Paris to join his regiment. He was
awfully good to us Sisters--used to make us coffee in the night, and
fill our hot bottles and give us hot bricks for our feet at meals.
Just going on now to a place we've not been to before, called Chocques.
The French have to-day given us an engine with the Red Cross on it and
an extra man to attend to the chauffage, so we have been quite warm and
lovely. We ply him at the stations with cigarettes and chocolate, and he
now falls over himself in his anxiety to please us.
The officers of the two Divisions which are having a rest have got 100
hours' leave in turns. We all now spend hours mapping out how much we
could get at home in 100 hours from Boulogne.
_Wednesday, November 25th._--Arrived at 11 P.M. last night at a
God-forsaken little place about eight miles from the firing line. Found
a very depressed major taking a most gloomy view of life and the war, in
charge of Indians. Pitch-dark night, and they were a mile away from the
station, so we went to bed at 12 and loaded up at 7.30 this morning, all
Indians, mostly badly wounded. They are such pathetic babies, just as
inarticulate to us and crying as if it was a crêche. I've done a great
trade in Hindustani, picked up at a desperate pace from a Hindu officer
to-day! If you write it down you can soon learn it, and I've got all the
necessary medical jargon now; you read it off, and then spout it without
looking at your note-book. The awkward part is when they answer
something you haven't got!
The Germans are using sort of steam-ploughs for cutting trenches.
The frost has broken, thank goodness. The Hindu officer said the cold
was more than they bargained for, but they were "very, very glad to
fight for England." He thought the Germans were putting up a very good
show. There have been a great many particularly ghastly wounds from
hand-grenades in the trenches. We have made a very good journey down,
and expect to unload this evening, as we are just getting into Boulogne
at 6.30 P.M.
_Thursday, November 26th._--We did a record yesterday. Loaded up with
the Indians--full load--bad cases--quite a heavy day; back to B. and
unloaded by 9 P.M., and off again at 11.30 P.M. No waiting in the siding
this time. Three hospital ships were waiting this side to cross by
daylight. They can't cross now by night because of enemy torpedoes. So
all the hospitals were full again, and trains were taking their loads on
to Rouen and Havre. We should have had to if they hadn't been Indians.
We loaded up to-day at Bailleul, where we have been before--headquarters
of 3rd and 4th Divisions. We had some time to wait there before loading
up, so went into the town and saw the Cathedral--beautiful old tower,
hideously restored inside, but very big and well kept. The town was very
interesting. Sentries up the streets every hundred yards or so; the
usual square packed with transport, and the usual jostle of Tommies and
staff officers and motor-cars and lorries. We saw General French go
through.
The Surgeon-General had been there yesterday, and five Sisters are to be
sent up to each of the two clearing hospitals there. They should have
an exciting time. A bomb was dropped straight on to the hospital two
days ago--killed one wounded man, blew both hands off one orderly, and
wounded another. The airman was caught, and said he was very sorry he
dropped it on the hospital; he meant it for Headquarters. We have a lot
of cases of frost-bite on the train. One is as bad as in Scott's
Expedition; may have to have his foot amputated. I'd never seen it
before. They are nearly all slight medical cases; very few wounded,
which makes a very light load from the point of view of work, but we
shall have them on the train all night. One of us is doing all the train
half the night, and another all the train the other half. The other two
go to bed all night. I am one of these, as I have got a bit of a throat
and have been sent to bed early. We've never had a light enough load for
one to do the whole train before. The men say things are very quiet at
the Front just now. Is it the weather or the Russian advance?
Great amusement to-day. Major P. got left behind at Hazebrouck, talking
to the R.T.O., but scored off us by catching us up at St Omer on an
engine which he collared.
_Saturday, November 28th._--Sunny and much milder. We came up in the
night last night to St Omer, and have not taken any sick on yet. There
seems to be only medical cases about just now, which is a blessed relief
to think of. They are inevitable in the winter, here or at home. The
Major has gone up to Poperinghe with one carriage to fetch six badly
wounded officers and four men who were left there the other day when the
French took the place over.
I was just getting cigarettes for an up-going train of field-kitchens
and guns out of your parcel when it began to move. The men on each truck
stood ready, and caught the packets as eagerly as if they'd been
diamonds as I threw them in from my train. It was a great game; only two
went on the ground. The "Surprise," I suppose, is in the round tin. We
are keeping it for a lean day.
6 P.M.--We are just coming to Chocques for Indians again, not far from
Armentières, so I am looking up my Hindustani conversation again.
On Friday--the day between these two journeys--Sister N. and I got a
motor ambulance from the T.O. and whirled off to Wimereux in it. It is a
lovely place on the sea, about three miles off, now with every hotel,
casino, and school taken up by R.A.M.C. Base Hospitals. It was a lovely
blue morning, and I went right out to the last rock on the sands and
watched the breakers while Sister N. attended to some business. It was
glorious after the everlasting railway carriage atmosphere. Then we
found a very nice old church in the town. It is too wet to load up with
the Indians to-night, so we have the night in bed, and take them down
to-morrow.
A sergeant of the 10th Hussars told me he was in a house with some
supposed Belgian refugees. He noticed that when a little bell near the
ceiling rang one of them always dashed upstairs. He put a man upstairs
to trace this bell and intercept the Belgian. It was connected with the
little trap-door of a pigeon-house. When a pigeon came in with a
message, this door rang the bell and they went up and got the message.
They didn't reckon on having British in the house. They were shot next
morning.
It takes me a month to read a Sevenpenny out here.
_Sunday (Advent), November 29th._--On the way down from Chocques. We
have got Indians, British, and eight Germans this time. One big,
handsome, dignified Mussulman wouldn't eat his biscuit because he was in
the same compartment as a Hindu, and the Hindu wouldn't eat his because
the Mussulman had handed it to him. The Babu I called in to interpret
was very angry with both, and called the M. a fool-man, and explained to
us that he was telling them that in England "Don't care Mussulman, don't
care Hindu"--only in Hindustan, and that if the Captain Sahib said
"Eat," it was "Hukm," and they'd got to. My sympathies were with the
beautiful, polite, sad-looking M., who wouldn't budge an inch, and only
salaamed when the Babu went for him.
_Monday, November 30th, Boulogne._--Yesterday a wounded Tommy on the
train told me "the Jack Johnsons have all gone." To-day's French
communiqué says, "The enemy's heavy artillery is little in evidence."
There is a less strained feeling about everywhere--a most blessed lull.
We were late getting our load off the train last night, and some were
very bad. One of my Sikhs with pneumonia did not live to reach Boulogne.
Another pneumonia was very miserable, and kept saying, "Hindustan gurrum
England tanda." They all think they are in England. The Gurkhas are
supposed by the orderlies to be Japanese. They are exactly like Japs,
only brown instead of yellow. The orderlies make great friends with them
all. One Hindu was singing "Bonnie Dundee" to them in a little gentle
voice, very much out of tune. Their great disadvantage is that they are
alive with "Jack Johnsons" (not the guns). They take off _all_ their
underclothes and throw them out of the window, and we have to keep
supplying them with pyjamas and shirts. They sit and stand about naked,
scratching for dear life. It is fatal for the train, because all the
cushioned seats are now infected, and so are we. I love them dearly, but
it is a big price to pay.
_Tuesday, December 1st._--We are to-day in a beautiful high embankment
at Wimereux, three miles from Boulogne, right on the sea, and have been
dry-docked there till 3 P.M. (when we have just started for?), while
endless trains of men and guns have gone up past us. H.M. King George
was in the restaurant car of one of them. We have been out all the
morning, down to the grey and rolling sea, and have been celebrating
December 1st by sitting on the embankment reading back numbers of 'The
Times,' and one of the C.S.'s and I have been painting enormous Red
Crosses on the train.
'Punch' comes regularly now and is devoured by our Mess. We are very
like the apostles, and share everything from cakes and 'Spheres' to
remedies for "Jack Johnsons." Bread-and-butter doesn't happen, alas!
6.30 P.M.--We've just caught up H.M. King George's train at St Omer, but
he is evidently out dining with Sir John French. We are just alongside.
He has red and blue curtains lining the bridges to keep his royal khaki
shoulders from getting smutty. His _chef_ has a grey beard. He is with
Poincaré.
_Wednesday, December 2nd._--We got to Chocques very late last night and
are loading up this morning, but only a few here; we shall stop at
Lillers and take more on. We went for our usual exploring walk through
seas of mud. There are more big motor-lorries here than I've seen
anywhere. We wandered past a place where Indians were busy killing and
skinning goats--a horrible sight--to one of these châteaux where the
staff officers have their headquarters: it was a lovely house in a very
clean park; there was a children's swing under the trees and we had some
fine swings.
_Later._--Officers have been on the train on both places begging for
newspapers and books. We save up our 'Punches' and 'Daily Mails' and
'Times' for them, and give them any Sevenpennies we have to spare. They
say at least forty people read each book, and they finish up in the
trenches.
H.M. King George was up here yesterday afternoon in a motor and gave
three V.C.'s.
We have only taken on 83 at the two places. There is so little doing
anywhere--no guns have been heard for several days, and there is not
much sickness. An officer asked for some mufflers for his Field
Ambulance men, so I gave him the rest of the children's: the sailors on
the armoured train had the first half. He came back with some pears for
us. They are so awfully grateful for the things we give them that they
like to bring us something in exchange. Seven men off a passing truck
fell over each other getting writing-cases and chocolate to-day. They
almost eat the writing-cases with their joy.
9 P.M.--We filled up at St Omer from the three hospitals there. A great
many cases of frost-bite were put on. They crawl on hands and knees,
poor dears. Some left in hospital are very severe and have had to be
amputated below the knee. Some of the toes drop off. I have one carriage
of twenty-four Indians. A Sikh refused to sit in the same seat with a
stout little major of the Gurkhas. I showed him a picture of Bobs, and
he said at once, "Robert Sahib." They love the 'Daily Mirrors' with
pictures of Indians. The Sikhs are rather whiney patients and very hard
to please, but the little Gurkhas are absolute stoics, and the Bengal
Lancers, who are Mohammedans, are splendid.
_Thursday, December 3rd._--We kept our load on all night, as we got in
very late. I went to bed 10.20 A.M., and then took all the train:
unloaded directly after breakfast. Some men from Lancashire were rather
interesting on the war; they thought it would do Europe so much good in
the long-run. And the French might try and get their own back when they
get into Germany, but "the British is too tender-'earted to do them
things." They arranged that Belgium should have Berlin! They all get
very pitiful over the Belgian homes and desolation; it seems to upset
them much more than their own horrors in the trenches. A good deal of
the fighting they talk about as if it was an exciting sort of football
match, full of sells and tricks and chances. They roar with laughter at
some of their escapes.
There was no hospital ship in, which spells a bath or no bath to me, but
I ramped round the town till I found a hotel which kindly supplied a
fine bath for 1.75. And I found another and nicer English church and a
Roman Catholic one.
Grand mail when I came in--from home.
_Friday, December 4th._--Had a busy day loading at three places: just
going to turn in as I have to be up at 2 A.M.; we shall have the
patients on all night. It is a fearful night, pouring and blowing. We
have taken a tall white-haired Padre up with us this time: he wanted a
trip to the Front. We happened to go to a place we hadn't been to
before, in a coal-mining district. While we loaded he marched off to
explore, and was very pleased at finding a well-shelled village and an
unexploded shell stuck in a tree. It specially seemed to please him to
find a church shelled! He has enjoyed talking to the crowds of men on
the train on the way down. He lives and messes with us. We opened the
Harrod's cake to-day; it is a beauty. The men were awfully pleased with
the bull's-eyes, said they hadn't tasted a sweet for four months.
One of the C.S. has just dug me out to see some terrific flashes away
over the Channel, which he thinks is a naval battle. I think it is
lightning. It was. The gale is terrific: must be giving the ships a
doing.
_Saturday, December 5th_, 7 A.M.--We had a long stop on an embankment in
the night, and at last the Chef de Gare from the next station came along
the line and found both the French guards rolled up asleep and the
engine-driver therefore hung up. Then he ran out of coal, and couldn't
pull the train up the hill, so we had another four hours' wait while
another engine was sent for. Got into B. at 6 A.M.; bitterly cold and
wet, and no chauffage.
_Sunday, December 6th._--A brilliant frosty day--on way up to Bailleul.
We unloaded early at B. yesterday, and waited at a good place half-way
between B. and Calais, a high down not far from the sea, with a splendid
air. Some of the others went for a walk as we had no engine on, but I
had been up since 2 A.M., and have hatched another bad cold, and so
retired for a sleep till tea-time.
Just got to Hazebrouck. Ten men and three women were killed and twenty
wounded here this morning by a bomb. They are very keen on getting a
good bag here, especially on the station, and for other reasons, as it
is an important junction.
4 P.M.--We have been up to B. and there were no patients for us, so we
are to go back to the above bomb place to collect theirs. B. was packed
with pale, war-worn, dirty but cheerful French troops entraining for
their Front. They have been all through everything, and say they want to
go on and get it finished. They carry fearful loads, including an extra
pair of boots, a whole collection of frying-pans and things, and
blankets, picks, &c., all on their backs.