AT THE FRENCH HOSPITAL
They were soon at the border of the French field hospital. It was only
natural that Thad and his comrades should survey the scene with a wonder
closely approaching awe. They had passed through a good many strange
experiences during the past two years, as we happen to know, but never
before had their eyes taken in such a remarkable picture as that now
spread out before them.
The French Red Cross Corps had picked out this position for the
emergency hospital with an eye both to convenience and safety. While it
was close enough to the battle line to prove of vast service, and
wounded men could be carried to the operating tables without much loss
of precious minutes; at the same time it was at an angle where the
numerous white flags with the sacred Red Cross might easily be seen from
the German lines.
No cannon were allowed near by, so that every excuse for shells dropping
in that sector had apparently been avoided.
It was a busy scene that the boys gazed upon. Streams of men with
stretchers passed back and forth, those coming in bearing burdens and
those going out after others.
Ambulances, vans and all manner of wheeled vehicles were moving this way
and that, loading up with their human freight that was to be transported
forthwith to the hospitals of Paris and beyond.
Bustling surgeons could be seen. Bumpus quailed at the sight of their
stained aprons. He felt as though he were in close touch with a butcher
shop; but not by a word or a whimper did he disclose the dreadful
feeling that so nearly overwhelmed his rapidly beating heart.
In the midst of all this apparent confusion haste seemed to be the only
predominant requisite. The wounded were streaming in so fast that only
superficial attention could be paid to individual cases. Machine-like
work was the order of the day. Army surgeons, when the battle is on,
cannot appear humane. They must do their necessary work methodically,
for they are engaged in a wholesale business where sympathy can have
little part.
But the boys did not mean to stand there gaping for long. Thad and Allan
were resolved to find some part in the great work of serving suffering
humanity. This was a task that even neutrals could engage in. They would
just as readily assist in binding up the wounds of a German prisoner as
a French hero; it made no difference.
So Thad led the way into the midst of those grewsome sights, dodging
several moving vans that were coming or going, their drivers shouting at
the top of their voices, for even here the roar of the raging battle was
strenuous.
Perhaps Bumpus would have liked to stand a bit and cast his eyes far
across the open country to where the smoky pall was hovering and the
opposing armies struggled in a death grip; but Thad meant business, and
the time for watching stirring events had temporarily passed.
The field hospital had been laid out on rising ground. This was to allow
the enemy a full chance to mark the spot, so that their guns might not
drop shells in that particular quarter.
“Listen!” exclaimed Allen just then, “some one is talking good old
United States over yonder, Thad! Think of our running across an American
here of all places, will you?”
“It must be one of the surgeons!” the scout leader declared. “Perhaps he
was in Paris at the time and volunteered to come out and work under the
Red Cross. That is always permissible, you know. Even neutrals can help
the wounded, which is why we’re here right now. There, I’ve placed the
party, and from the way others consult him I guess he’s the head
surgeon, in this section of the hospital, anyway.”
Of course it was the sensible thing for Thad to do to try and get in
touch with the English-speaking operator, who would much more readily
understand their desire to do something than a French doctor could.
The busy surgeon looked up at their approach. He was, of course,
considerably surprised at seeing three lads clad in faded khaki; a
bustling field hospital did not seem to be just the place for youngsters
of this type. His astonishment jumped to a still higher notch, however,
when the foremost boy spoke to him in English.
“We are American Boy Scouts, sir, who by accident happen to be caught
over here between the two armies. One of our number has even now taken
an ambulance on to Paris, for the regular driver was sorely wounded. The
rest of us fixed up his hurts and sent him on board a loaded van. That
gave us the idea we might make ourselves useful while trapped here
between the lines. We’ve been trained as Scouts to give first aid, you
see, sir, and if you could tell us what to do we’d be ready to start in
right away.”
There happened to be a temporary lull in business. The hard-worked head
surgeon could afford to give these remarkable boys a minute or two of
his precious time. His grim face broke into a half-smile, as though
their coming had been in the nature of a breath of fresh air.
“Good for you, my boy,” he said energetically. “I’m also an American,
from New York City. Just now I’m devoting my whole energies to looking
after these poor fellows who come out of the shambles; no matter on
which side they fought, it is all the same to me. A surgeon has no right
to be partisan at a time like this. To be sure I can make you useful,
for we are suffering from a lack of attendants.”
He immediately assigned them to a certain work that he expected they
could attend to, and which in a measure would relieve his assistants. A
sudden fresh rush of new patients caused the head surgeon to leave the
three scouts to their work; but ever and anon as he labored feverishly
he found occasion to glance toward where Thad, ably backed by Allan and
Bumpus, was bandaging less severe wounds, and from the gleam in the
surgeon’s eye and the faint smile on his face it looked as though he
felt highly pleased with their methods of procedure.
Thad put his whole soul into his work. His previous experience profited
him now to a certain extent, and by the time half an hour had passed he
felt as though he were a veteran along the line of wrapping up cuts and
abrasions.
Even Bumpus no longer felt that horrid squeamishness such as had
attacked him at first. They say “familiarity breeds contempt,” but while
this would hardly apply in the present case, at least it hardened the
stout boy’s nerves to a wonderful extent, so that he could even do some
of the bandaging himself.
The battle meanwhile ebbed and flowed by turns. They could not tell how
things were going, though at times loud yellings came floating to their
ears, as though one side or the other might have found cause for
rejoicing. Thad had some reason for believing that the French must be
holding their ground wonderfully well; at least he had seen no direct
signs of a retreat.
Batteries now and then swept past to take fresh positions. They
respected that magical flag flying there on the rise, though doubtless
many a captain of a gun thought what a splendid position that would be
to shell the distant lines of the enemy. Such an act, though, would have
been contrary to all recognized rules of civilized warfare. They must
scrupulously observe these so as to avoid giving the German batteries
the slightest excuse for turning their guns in this quarter and raining
fresh ruin and death upon the inmates of the emergency field hospital.
Once during another little lull in the almost constant succession of
patients the noted American surgeon stepped over to where the three
scouts were busily engaged. He gave them what he undoubtedly meant to be
a smile of encouragement, although his face was so grim with his
terrible work that it seemed almost out of place.
“I want to commend you boys for your ability in care of ordinary
wounds,” he told Thad as he came up after glancing at the splendid way
in which the bandage had been placed around a torn arm. “It does great
credit to the organization to which you belong. I never dreamed it could
be doing such a grand work among our boys over in America. After this I
shall have only words of commendation for the Boy Scout movement. It has
come to stay as the greatest uplift ever devised for the rising
generation.”
Thad reddened under this eloquent praise. It was certainly worth all the
trouble they had endured just to hear this splendid professional man
utter such words.
“I only wish,” continued the tired surgeon, after Thad had thanked him
as best he was able, “that I had the time to hear your story, for I’m
very sure it must be worth listening to; perhaps later on I may do so
while resting. But here comes another batch of poor fellows needing
attention. Keep right on doing as you are, my boys. Grateful France will
thank you for every wound you bind up.”
With that he left them and resumed his grewsome labors. Other cases came
to the three chums from time to time; in fact, they were kept constantly
employed, for a constant stream of injured continued to flow to the
field hospital. Those German guns wrought terrific damage with their
accurately placed fire, and when batallions of the blue came in contact
with others wearing the Kaiser’s gray and the machine guns spat out
their deadly hail the list of casualties mounted higher and higher as
the day wore on.
Bumpus, in the midst of his work, found occasion to wonder how Giraffe
might be coming on. Had he managed to reach the hospital in Paris and
deliver his human freight, and would he start back again toward the
front along that congested road to once more receive an allotment of the
freshly wounded?
And then Bumpus indulged in rainbow chasing or building air castles when
he allowed himself to imagine an accidental meeting on the streets of
Paris between Giraffe and his sick mother, Mrs. Hawtree.
“Course that’d be next door to a miracle,” Bumpus admitted to himself
candidly: “but then it’s possible at that. And it’d be fine for Giraffe
to let Ma know her darling boy was safe and sound and just now as busy
as a beaver, helping poor chaps along! Oh! well, before a great while I
hope to be in Paris myself, when I can look her up. Sooner or later
there’ll come along a chance to ride with a driver, and if Thad thinks
it’s all right I guess I’ll go.”
Then he started in to labor with more vim than ever, as though
determined to “make hay while the sun shone.” Truth to tell, few fellows
could put their whole soul into any work of mercy better than Bumpus,
who was known among his mates as an exceedingly tender-hearted chap.
It was while these things were going on with the momentum and precision
of a great machine, the wounded coming and going in constant streams,
that a sudden and startling interruption occurred.
Thad at the time had just finished bandaging the leg of a young French
soldier, who bore the excruciating pain with the stoicism of a hero. He
had made an especially decent job of the operation, according to his way
of looking at it, and the patient thanked him in voluble French, which,
of course, Thad could only partly understand.
Thinking to get him in one of the vans that were loading, Thad had just
turned and half-risen to his feet when he experienced a rude shock.
Close by there came a most terrific explosion. The earth flew high in
the air in a shower that resembled a miniature geyser. No doubt
considerable damage was done and a number of men either killed or
maimed, while several horses immediately tried to run away, adding to
the confusion.
Thad knew what this meant without being told. A German shell, the first
that had been sent anywhere near the field hospital, had fallen in their
midst and wrought much ruin. That was not the worst. For some reason
unknown the German gunfire had been suddenly raised, and there was a
strong likelihood that other terrible shells would follow that leader,
rendering the position untenable!
No wonder, then, that consternation filled the hearts of the working
surgeons as they held their breath while waiting to see if the blow
would be repeated.