WORK IN THE HOSPITAL.--THE ISLE OF IGES.--MY ARAB HORSE.--PRISONERS SENT
INTO GERMANY.
I do not intend entering here into full details of our work during this
eventful period. But, to give unprofessional readers some idea of its
nature and extent, I may state, that after the battles of August 31st,
and 1st September, we had 72 amputations of upper and lower extremities,
the great majority of which operations were performed by Dr. MacCormac.
Besides these, there were scores of equal magnitude--ligatures of
arteries of the neck, arm, and thigh,--and a host of operations, which,
in comparison, are usually termed minor, most of which, especially when
very serious, were accomplished by the same skilful hand. After the
hurry and rush of the first few days, we adopted a general routine of
work, and divided the number of wounded equally among the staff of
surgeons and assistants. We were eighteen, all told. Dr. Marion Sims was
our head, Dr. MacCormac our chief operator, Dr. Webb our _comptable_,
and Mr. Harry Sims our storekeeper. As I stated before, Drs. Frank and
Blewitt managed a branch hospital in the Château Mouville, where they
rendered to the victims of fire, sword, shot, and shell, of bullet and
bayonet, the most signal assistance at the imminent peril of their
lives.
Thus for our three hundred and eighty wounded at the Caserne D'Asfeld we
had but twelve men, six being surgeons, and six assistants and
_sous-aides_; so that the number of wounded which fell to the share of
each surgeon and his assistant was sixty-three. Almost every case
occupying a bed in the hospital was of a serious nature, such as to
require much time and care in dressing it daily. But, besides, we had to
dress the lightly wounded who came to our hospital for inspection, and
who were quartered in the town wherever they could find room. The work
was simply enormous. We rose at six and breakfasted at half-past seven
upon horseflesh soup, or coffee and condensed milk (Mallow brand) with
musty bread, for our special supply of provisions was exhausted, and
neither bread nor beef could be obtained at any price. The duties to
which we then applied ourselves are easily imaginable; they included the
setting of fractures, extracting of bullets, ligaturing arteries,
resecting bones and joints, and assisting at the operation table. This
last was frequently my province. I was under Dr. May, an experienced
American surgeon, who, as I have mentioned earlier, had served in the
Confederate Army. No one could be more considerate. We worked most
agreeably together, and soon were the best of friends.
During the press of the first few days, we juniors had lots of bullets
to extract and plenty of minor surgery; for although we were not
supposed to perform any operation, yet under the strain of necessity we
could not but often neglect this otherwise wholesome arrangement. Every
day numberless operations were gone through, at which we assisted in
turn; and thus had what we sometimes thought more than enough of
practical surgery. I spare the reader details; yet only perhaps by such
ghastly touches as are here omitted, can the nature and ravages of war
be truly described.
At one o'clock the meal which we took resembled our breakfast, with the
addition of a little brandy; then we fell to work again, sometimes not
giving over until six, when we had supper, which was a repetition of our
other meals,--coffee or horseflesh soup, and sometimes horseflesh with
black bread and brandy. Then each took his turn of night duty. It was
very important to keep strict watch on the infirmarians, all soldiers
under the direction of a sergeant who remained in the guard-room when on
duty. We still owed allegiance to the French, and were nominally under
the Intendant Militaire, M. Bilotte. This gentleman paid us a daily
visit, and laid under requisition all the provisions he could get in the
neighbourhood, which was not much, considering that the presence of
200,000 men had involved the consumption of every particle of food in
the town and the surrounding villages.
Being junior member of the Ambulance Staff, I came first on night duty
and took my position on a stretcher in the guard-room, where it was all
I could do to keep myself awake. My eyes would close in spite of
resolution, and I sometimes awoke just in time to escape a reprimand
when Dr. Marion Sims came round at midnight to make his inspection. As a
veteran in the American War he kept the strictest discipline, and
occasionally made our blood run cold by a description of the penalties
inflicted during that lively time for the smallest dereliction of duty.
However, except that a dozen or so of poor sufferers required morphia to
tranquillise them, nothing occurred until the small hours of the
morning, when it struck me that some of the _infirmiers_ might be, like
myself, inclined to doze. Accordingly, I went round and looked them up.
All were stirring, except the infirmarians of wards 2 and 5, who were
stretched out, one on a bench, another on the ground, fast asleep. I
kicked them up to attention, and left them certainly more frightened
than hurt. On my reporting the matter, as I was bound, next morning, the
sleepy delinquents were put in the cells for twenty-four hours.
Later on, one of them had twice as much punishment for the same offence.
Poor fellows, I could not really blame them.
A source of disturbance during the night was the droves of loose horses,
principally Arabs, that kept neighing and pawing the pavement outside
the building, in their endeavour to reach the water which was stored in
buckets near the open windows. Every night, as their thirst increased,
they became more frantic; and during the daytime they came in dozens,
drawn by the scent of water, all the while kicking each other furiously.
Some had bridles, some mere fragments of their trappings, and the rest
had got quit of all their furniture. It was novel to see these chargers
careering about in demi-toilette. In a few days, however, all the
wounded animals, now become useless, were shot; the others were brought
together--chiefly by the sound of the trumpet, to which they quickly
answered--and were picketed in the valley beyond the Meuse and above
Donchery.
One morning Hayden and I made an expedition, and secured two of them.
Mine was a fine chestnut Arab, which I kept tied to a tree in our
enclosure, while one of my _infirmiers_ contrived to get fodder for him
outside the ramparts, in addition to what I could procure myself from
the ambulance stores. Mounted on our captures, Hayden and I used
occasionally to explore the country during our hours off duty.
Afterwards, when leaving Sedan, we turned them out again upon the
plains, where, doubtless, they enjoyed a short-lived freedom. Some of
the unsound horses, which the Prussians did not require, they sold for a
trifle to the inhabitants. I saw a remarkably useful pair of horses,
apparently sound and in good condition, which were sold by auction in
the Place de Turenne for twelve francs, that is to say, ten shillings
the pair. But we must bear in mind that, with a little vigilance, and by
evading the Prussian pickets, horses might then be had on the plains for
the trouble of catching them.
What had become, meanwhile, of the defeated and entrapped army of
prisoners? After much trouble, their officers had got together all that
remained of the regiments, and had sent in a return of their strength to
the Prussians. For three days our enclosure was not clear of them. One
afternoon, when the prisoners had been shut up into their Island "Park,"
the Isle d'Iges, Hayden and I paid them a visit. It was a melancholy
sight. That imposing army, which included the best soldiers of France,
had been marched ignominiously, though 85,000 strong, out of Sedan, and
penned like sheep in this island, formed by a bend in the Meuse. There
they were kept in view by Prussian sentinels and mounted pickets. We
passed the guard without difficulty, for there was no prohibition
against Red Cross medical men entering the camp. In addition to the
French rank and file, those officers who refused to take the parole were
confined upon the island. We saw them to be in a miserable plight, the
mud up to their ankles, and their clothing scanty and torn. Many had
lost everything and were wholly without kits. The rain, which had
succeeded to that brilliant sunshine of the 1st, had now been coming
down in torrents for twelve hours, and was drenching them to the skin;
for their tent-accommodation was altogether insufficient, and failed to
shelter them. Men and officers alike looked miserable.
This open-air prison, I have said, was formed partly by a bend of the
Meuse, and partly by a broad, deep, and impassable canal. Within such
narrow limits we observed the captives, who were walking up and down in
batches, trying to get a little warmth. Some endeavoured to light a
fire--no easy task with wet sticks--others were making coffee, or busied
themselves in cutting timber to throw on their smoking branches. Their
food was a scanty supply of bread and coffee, served out every two days;
and for this there was quite a scramble, which ended in many failing to
secure more than enough for a single meal. Thus they were condemned to
starve until the next supply was served out. We may well ask how such a
multitude could exist during those weary days, at the mercy of the
weather, and in a sea of filth. But many died, and the sufferings of
the rest were deplorable. These poor fellows told us that hundreds of
them were victims of dysentery, and begged us to give them such opiates
or astringents as we might have about us. Unfortunately, we could do but
little under the circumstances.
Whilst I was speaking with a knot of soldiers, my friend fell into
conversation with a captain of the line, M. le Marquis de ----, of the
4th Chasseurs d'Afrique. He, too, was suffering from the effects of wet
and exposure. Hayden, with that generosity for which he was remarkable,
promised to come the next day, and to bring all the medicine required.
In return, the captain pressed upon him a fine grey Arab, with bridle
and saddle, which Hayden accepted, but could not take away then, for the
guard would not have passed him out. However, when he came the day
after, with a plentiful supply of medicaments and brandy, he rode an old
grey _garron_ which he had picked up somewhere, and on his departure
went off with the captain's beautiful mount;--a change of steeds that
the Prussian did not trouble to remark.
Every day we saw from our quarters regiment after regiment bundled off
(there is no other word for it) into Germany. As we watched the whole
French army slouching away to the sound of Prussian music, I confess
that some of us had strong language on our lips and still stronger
feelings in our hearts at the shameful sight. We anathematised the
enemy, who now seemed to be pursuing their advantage so unrelentingly.
Yet, candour compels me to add, that when I looked at the Prussian
sentinels guarding our gates and pacing our ramparts, I could not help
admiring their stern, yet frank and honest countenances, and their
stalwart physique. A notable contrast, indeed, they presented to the
stunted, nervous-looking, and worn-out French soldiers, who, however, it
is only fair to add, were suffering from the effects of long exposure
and privation, and whom we had seen at their worst. Still, there was a
difference in the men themselves which no one with eyes in his head
could fail to observe. What was the explanation of it? He that can reply
to this question as the truth demands, and he alone, will explain why
the French campaigns of 1870 and 1871 were such a dismal series of
misfortunes. The break-down of the Commissariat, the peculation in high
quarters, the confused plans, and the military disorder must be ascribed
to causes which were long in action before the French entered on their
struggle with the Fatherland. I am convinced that those causes were
moral and intellectual; and that they still exist. The future of France
will depend on how the nation deals with them.