When we arrived at Zyradow about three o'clock we were looking forward
to a bath and tea and bed, as we had been up all night and were very
tired; but the train most unkindly dropped us about a quarter of a
mile from the station, and we had to get out all our equipment and
heavy cases of dressings, and put them at the side of the line, while
Julian, the Prince's soldier servant, went off to try and find a man
and a cart for the things. There was a steady downpour of rain, and
we were soaked by the time he came back saying that there was nothing
to be had at all. The station was all in crumbling ruins, so we could
not leave the things there, and our precious dressings were beginning
to get wet. Finally we got permission to put them in a closed cinema
theater near the station, but it was dark by that time, and we were
wet and cold and began once more to center our thoughts on baths and
tea. We were a small party--only six of us--Princess, we two Sisters,
Colonel S., a Russian dresser, and Julian. We caught a local Red
Crosser. "Where is the hotel?" "There is no hotel here." "Where can we
lodge for to-night?" "I don't know where you could lodge." "Where is
the Red Cross Bureau?" asked Princess, in desperation. "About a quarter
of an hour's walk. I will show you the way."
We got to the Red Cross Bureau to find that Monsieur Goochkoff had not
yet arrived, though he was expected, and they could offer no solution
of our difficulties, except to advise us to go to the Factory Hospital
and see if they could make any arrangement for us. The Matron there
was _very_ kind, and telephoned to every one she could think of, and
finally got a message that we were expected, and were to sleep at
the Reserve. So we trudged once more through the mud and rain. The
"Reserve" was two small, empty rooms, where thirty Sisters were going
to pass the night. They had no beds, and not even straw, but were just
going to lie on the floor in their clothes. There was obviously no room
for six more of us, and finally we went back once more to the Red Cross
Bureau. Princess seized an empty room, and announced that we were going
to sleep in it. We were told we couldn't, as it had been reserved for
somebody else; but we didn't care, and got some patients' stretchers
from the depot and lay down on them in our wet clothes just as we were.
In the middle of the night the "somebody" for whom the room had been
kept arrived, strode into the room, and turned up the electric light.
The others were really asleep, and I pretended to be. He had a good
look at us, and then strode out again grunting. We woke up every five
minutes, it was so dreadfully cold, and though we were so tired, I was
not sorry when it was time to get up.
We had breakfast at a dirty little restaurant in the town, and then got
a message from the Red Cross that there would be nothing for us to do
that day, but that we were probably going to be sent to Radzowill the
following morning. So we decided to go off to the Factory Hospital and
see if we could persuade the Matron to let us have a bath there.
Zyradow is one very large cotton and woollen factory, employing about
5,000 hands. In Russia it is the good law that for every hundred
workmen employed there shall be one hospital bed provided. In the small
factories a few beds in the local hospital are generally subsidized, in
larger ones they usually find it more convenient to have their own. So
here there was a very nice little hospital with fifty beds, which had
been stretched now to hold twice as many more, as a great many wounded
had to be sent in here. The Matron is a Pole of Scottish extraction,
and spoke fluent but quite foreign English with a strong Scotch accent.
There are a good many Scotch families here, who came over and settled
in Poland about a hundred years ago, and who are all engaged in
different departments in the factory. She was kindness itself, and gave
us tea first and then prepared a hot bath for us all in turn. We got
rid of most of our tormentors and were at peace once more.
As we left the hospital we met three footsore soldiers whose boots were
absolutely worn right through. They were coming up to the hospital to
see if the Matron had any dead men's boots that would fit them. It
sounded rather gruesome--but she told us that that was quite a common
errand. The Russian military boots are excellent, but, of course, all
boots wear out very quickly under such trying circumstances of roads
and weather. They are top boots, strong and waterproof, and very often
made by the men themselves. The uniform, too, is very practical and
so strong that the men have told me that carpets are made from the
material. The color is browner than our own khaki--and quite different
both from the German, which is much grayer, and the Austrian, which is
almost blue. I heard in Belgium that at the beginning of the war German
soldiers were constantly mistaken for our men.