THE LA BASSÉE ROAD AT CHÂTEAU GORRE.
As the fighting is still going on round this district any description of
military positions or dispositions would be quite out of place.
Our headquarters at Château Gorre was a beautiful two-storied stone
building, quite modern, and well arranged in every way with spacious
lofty halls, dining-rooms, lounges, bedrooms, and bathrooms.
When we took up our quarters here we knew that we would soon be busy with
wounded, and the central hall of the château was at once prepared for
their reception. Two larger rooms opening to the right and to the left
off the hall were covered with mattresses and blankets, hot water was
prepared, operation table opened out, and towels and instruments made
ready. Just when we had about finished preparations our first arrivals,
four men of the Dragoon Guards, turned up. They had been wounded slightly
in the arms and face while advancing along the road towards Festubert.
Twenty minutes later fifty-four wounded arrived, Bedfords and Cheshires,
most of whom had slight wounds of the arms and hands and scalp, and were
able to walk.
Urgent orders came in to send six ambulance waggons down the Festubert
road. These were sent forward with stretcher parties and six medical
officers. This was the beginning of a very “bloody” night. All that
evening and all night wounded were continually coming in. I was on duty
in the château as surgeon till 4 a.m., when another medical officer
relieved me. Red Cross ambulances were driven up frequently and took
away all our lightly wounded and those fit to travel. These were sent to
Bethune, and thus the château was kept from becoming too congested. These
Red Cross ambulances had been provided and equipped by British residents
in Paris; they were splendidly handled, and proved a godsend to us.
Many of them were converted “Ford cars,” and could carry six lying-down
patients and one sitting up beside the driver. The stretchers were swung
on trestles and chains, and fitted easily. Our ambulance waggons and
stretcher-bearers were out all night and had a very dangerous time at the
front. At 10.30 next morning the heavy artillery firing eased off, and at
eleven o’clock occurred one of those extraordinary lulls when all the big
guns and little guns cease firing and everything seems strangely silent.
A chaplain arrived at the château in the morning and read the service
over one of our wounded who had died during the night from a broken
spine. The grave was dug near the flower garden at the foot of the lawn,
and many graves were dug there in the three succeeding terrible weeks of
fierce, bitter fighting. On this day the Dorsets, who were in reserve
and quartered near the gate of our château, went into action and were
badly handled by the Germans, suffering severe losses, chiefly from a
concealed German machine-gun opening on to them from near the canal. The
Devons had to move up later to support the Dorsets, and did it in a most
gallant style. About two o’clock in the afternoon we had a great number
of casualties; our waggons were constantly arriving, unloading their
wounded, and setting off again for the front.
The Red Cross ambulances were evacuating the light cases as speedily as
possible to Bethune, but we very soon had all our rooms full of wounded
men and were working at high pressure at the operation table. At three
o’clock the artillery firing was tremendously heavy, and every gun was in
action. The château shook with the explosions; every window rattled and
some were broken. The concussion of the air outside and the terrible din
were distinctly unpleasant. Then the cracking of the rifle-firing became
audible, and reports came in that our men were retiring. Shortly after an
imperative order was sent to our O.C. telling him to evacuate the château
at once with his wounded and move off the Field Ambulance to the other
side of the canal. The horses were at once put in the various supply
waggons. We had only two ambulance waggons at the time, as the rest were
at the front collecting wounded. Some Red Cross ambulances, however,
turned up and took away twelve of our most serious cases. All the lightly
wounded were sent under charge of R.A.M.C. orderlies to walk back across
the canal to Bethune. Some men with shrapnel wounds of thigh and leg
also had to walk and get along somehow, and miserable and pitiable these
poor fellows looked, limping and struggling along the muddy road in their
bloody bandages. Things looked pretty serious at this moment, and I was
ordered to mount and gallop ahead to direct the waggons on to the right
road and to “round up” our poor wounded fellows who were trudging along
the roads. To make matters worse, heavy rain came on. Big artillery
practice always brought down the rain. I soon reached the head of our
column and gave the sergeant the necessary instructions.
On the side of the road there was an old inn or _estaminet_. I pulled my
horse up here and put two men on duty to stop all our walking wounded and
collect them into the front room of the inn. I went inside and arranged
with the woman in charge to light a big fire, make some tea, and have
bread and butter and anything else she could get ready for our men, and
to do it quickly. She set to work at once. I had then to gallop back to
the Château Gorre to help get away the serious cases and to collect any
empty lorry or waggon I could get. When I reached the château the O.C.
told me that we had moved up some reserves, and the Germans in their turn
were now retiring. He said that he would now keep his serious cases at
the château till motor ambulances arrived. I was ordered to gallop again
to the head of our column and turn back all the supply waggons, equipment
carts, and water carts, but to send the ambulance waggons with their
wounded on to Bethune. It was now dark, and after incredible trouble
my mission was accomplished and our drivers were already driving the
carts back. I now looked in at “mine inn.” All our wounded fellows were
sitting round the fire having tea, bread and butter, and slices of cold
boiled ham, and looked very happy. I asked the woman of the inn what the
cost was, and she only charged me ten francs. I never parted with money
so willingly. The privilege of being able to do something for these
good lads, and their appreciation of the hot fire and the hot tea, was
something I would not willingly forget.
The Château Gorre was once more re-established as an advanced ambulance
dressing station, and continued so for over three weeks. It was situated
right inside the shell zone, and had many “alarms and excursions” during
this period, but none quite so dramatic and sensational as that recorded
above. The work done by this ambulance at the château was extraordinarily
good and useful, and owing to its very advanced position so close to the
fighting line it was able to receive and treat the wounded very soon
after they had been hit.
When the order came to evacuate at the time of the incident related
above, the instructions given to our Commanding Officer were to get out
all the lightly wounded cases and to leave the serious cases in the
château. Our O.C. was a soldier, and he said that if he had to go he
would get all the wounded out, and that he would be “damned if he would
leave any seriously wounded man in the hands of the b—— Germans.” Strong
language at times is sweet music, and our O.C. was a man of his word. The
wounded men heard this story, and I heard some of them talking about it
later to each other. The O.C. took a high place in their estimation.
[Illustration: LOW FLAT GROUND NEAR THE CANAL—WITH A TRENCH.]
[Illustration: TOWARDS LA BASSÉE.
Many British dead lie here.]
At the château I was talking to a young lieutenant who had just received
a commission in the D—— Regiment. He had served as a private at the
beginning of the war and won his sergeant’s stripes for general good
conduct and gallantry under fire, and was then given a commission in
another regiment. He was hard put for a smoke, and could not get any
cigarettes, but fortunately I was able to give him some.
Ten days later, at Bethune, he was brought in to me with a crushed arm,
hanging by only a thread of muscle to the shoulder, and I had to amputate
it under chloroform. He recognised me as the man who had given him the
cigarettes, and said, “Hullo, doctor, you’re always doing me kind things,
so now take my arm off.” I was very sorry that I had to do it, but such
is war and the aftermath of victory.
Next day after our big alarm I was sent back by the Assistant Director
of the Medical Service of this Division to take up duty at Bethune,
four miles back from where we were, at the Château Gorre, and to help
in the organisation for handling and treating our many wounded there.
Bethune was on the other side of the canal to the château, and during the
succeeding three or four weeks became a very big hospital centre for the
British engaged in the direction of La Bassée.
The Field Ambulance headquarters, with the waggons, still remained at
the château closer to the firing line, and evacuated their many wounded
as speedily as possible in to us at Bethune. These were strenuous days
of hard and obstinate fighting, and the casualties were heavy. The life
of the medical officer was at this place arduous and sleepless, but the
motto of the Royal Army Medical Corps is “In arduis fidelis,” which may
be freely rendered “Always do your job.”