THE UNIT EXPANDS
The number of patients coming into a war hospital must inevitably
fluctuate, and ‘Claridge’s’ had its easy as well as its heavy periods.
During September and the first half of October the wards were occupied
principally by British wounded; but as the weeks went on, the War
Office completed its arrangements, and hospital trains were sent down
to transport the men to England, and fewer came into Paris. Meanwhile,
affiliation with a French military hospital had taken place, and a
greater number of French sick and wounded were sent in, as well as some
Belgians. November brought a lull, and the wards became comparatively
empty. An R.A.M.C. general called and asked that a hundred and fifty
beds might be made ready, as it was intended to send large numbers
of light cases to Paris, but the expected trains did not arrive till
December, when once more every available bed was filled by the British.
Investigation revealed that the reduction of French admissions was
caused by difficulties which had arisen between the Red Cross
offices in the rue de Thann and the Governor of Paris. The Red Cross
_directeur_, M. le Dr. M----, was of a choleric disposition; and when
he insulted the military authorities, they retaliated by cutting all
the rue de Thann hospitals off the station list. Hospitals which
were not on this list did not receive any wounded, even though they
sent their ambulances with a _permis_ signed by M. le Dr. M----. New
regulations, too, were constantly made; so that the papers which had
been in order on Monday might be obsolete on Wednesday. After one of
these inimical passages it was decreed that ambulances must carry a
_permission_ from the _Service de Santé_ in addition to the Red Cross
mandate. The rue de Thann was not successful in obtaining the necessary
document from headquarters, and consequently M. Falcouz suggested that
Dr. Flora Murray should go in person to see the Governor and ask for an
authority from him.
It transpired that appointments were not made with M. le Général F----.
The usual procedure was to be on the steps of his _cabinet_ at eight
o’clock in the morning. He held a _Réunion_ at seven o’clock every
morning; and those who wished for interviews waited to catch him when
the _Réunion_ dispersed.
M. le Général was very handsome: six foot in height, he was broad
in proportion and his red and blue uniform was highly becoming. As
he stood on the steps shaking hands with his colleagues, he was a
debonair and pleasant figure. There was power in his face and a sense
of humour, but there was cunning too. His extreme courtesy did not
completely disguise his insincerity. He was frankly curious about the
women doctors, but behind his polite interest was scepticism. Dr.
Murray presented a letter of introduction from a British official, and
requested M. le Général to furnish her with the necessary authority for
the stations and an order for coal and coke. Experience had shown that
he was always ready to promise everything that he was asked, but that
his promises were seldom fulfilled. With great affability he said that
he would send the authorisation and that he would refer the question of
coal to ‘l’intendance militaire.’ It was to meet this contingency that
Orderly Hodgson had accompanied the doctor. She said she would wait and
take both papers with her.
‘It will take an hour to prepare,’ said the secretary.
‘I will wait an hour,’ she said amiably.
‘It may perhaps be two hours,’ he warned her.
‘I will wait two hours,’ she said, still more amiably.
‘Or perhaps till _midi_,’ he insisted.
‘It is well. I will wait till _midi_,’ she rejoined.
He shrugged his shoulders and invited her to follow him to his office.
Before letting Dr. Murray go, M. le Général entered into his reasons
for requiring thirty thousand beds in Paris, and ended with:
‘Je tiens absolument à retenir votre installation.’
Probably he did not care at all, but he feared that if he let the
hospital leave Paris the British would absorb it. The interview was
useful. The necessary document was granted; and for a time obstruction
ceased.
The French soldiers who were admitted to the hospital were in a much
worse condition than the British. To begin with, they were of a more
intellectual and imaginative temperament, and they suffered in mind as
well as in body. They had borne great hardships, for their clothing
and equipment, and especially their commissariat, fell far below the
British standard.
One of those admitted was Pte. Darcy of the _Légion étrangère_. He
was one of several hundred young Englishmen resident in Paris who, on
the outbreak of war, had precipitately joined the French Army. When
wounded, he insisted on being put out of the train near Paris, that he
might go to an English hospital. As he recovered, he told how he had
joined in a hurry because he feared that he would miss all the fighting
if he went home and went through his training. He described his
experiences with the French Army: the severe training of recruits, the
inadequate accommodation, the lack of bedding, clothing, food, and the
indifferent medical attention. In the trenches his regiment remained
unrelieved for long periods, and for weeks his food was bread and a
sardine. Both he and his brother had married French women and lived
in Paris. His brother had been shell-shocked and was deaf and dumb,
and being unable to protest, had been removed to a French hospital in
the provinces. With a good deal of trouble his transfer to Claridge’s
was effected; and the two brothers had beds side by side and were very
happy in their reunion.
Other men in the ward became much interested in the cure of ‘Darcy’s
brother,’ as every one called him, and combined to stand behind him and
yell all together, to try and make him hear. The din was terrible, but
it gave the whole ward great pleasure; and when at last, one evening,
Darcy’s brother heard and turned round and smiled at them, they cheered
vociferously. Soon after this he recovered his speech also; and, in his
delight, it seemed to the staff as though from that moment he never
ceased talking.
They came from all over France, these men--from north and south,
from the Pyrénées and the Vosges: Zouaves, Moroccans, Bretons,
Alsatians--with their various types and uniforms, and, what was
more embarrassing, with their various _patois_. The nurses learnt
their tastes in food and in wine; they studied the difference in
their temperaments; prepared tisanes and special dishes, and made
them all happy and at home. A simple Poilu could not sleep at night
for wonder and delight at being in a marble hall. His melancholy
neighbour answered every inquiry about his arm with ‘Ça pique; ça pique
toujours.’ Sergeant Jacquot had innumerable smart lady friends. And ‘le
Caporal’ had quaint old parents from the Midi, who travelled all night
to come and see him and bring him a cheese and raisin wine.
The French soldier associated with the British very readily, joining
in his games and songs as though the difference of language was no
impediment to understanding. He was the most grateful and appreciative
of patients--glad to be nursed, massaged and well treated. Only, now
and then, he would say:
‘Our hospitals are not like that.’
This was the only criticism of his country’s institutions that ever
escaped him; for his patience under hardship was wonderful. His thick
red trousers were always too large for him; his heavy long blue coat
was most cumbersome, and his boots left much to be desired. His
under-clothing was of cotton; and he might or might not have socks with
which to face the damp and cold in the trenches. But he was a valiant
and an intrepid fighter, and his intense patriotism made him the most
uncomplaining and enduring of men.
Some of those who found refuge at Claridge’s had been shelled out of
three hospitals and had lain on straw in a cellar for six weeks. Others
had homes in the occupied area and did not know what had become of
their wives and families. Most of them had closed their shops and left
their business, and their future was uncertain. But, one and all, they
were certain of victory, and confidently referred to the time when the
German should be beaten.
The hardships of the winter and the wet climate told very heavily upon
the Algerians, who reached hospital in a miserable condition. They
were the victims of severe frostbite, and in one case, at any rate,
both feet had to be amputated. This man remained in the hospital for a
considerable time. Mrs. Kemp, who visited his ward, was very kind in
bringing fruit to him and his compatriots, for they loved to consume
large quantities of it. One day she asked him what he would like for
a present, and he said that his desire was to possess a valise. He
received it, when she brought it, with wide smiles. It was covered with
grey cloth, and had shiny black leather straps and handles and was
considered very attractive. At the earliest opportunity he summoned his
doctor to his bedside, and showing her the valise, asked for his feet.
Alas! they had not been preserved, and he was bitterly disappointed.
* * * * *
When reports reached Paris of the heavy fighting in the north and of
the great rush of wounded to Boulogne, the English hospitals in that
city made up a party of surgeons and nurses and sent them to give any
additional aid which might be required. Three doctors from ‘Claridge’s’
were of the party. When they reached Boulogne they found the hospitals
and stations seriously overcrowded, and approximately three thousand
casualties were coming in daily. The authorities, however, refused
all outside help. They said that they had ample staff and needed no
volunteers; and it was even supposed that orders were given to refuse
civilians access to the hospitals.
The women doctors made friends with the matron of one of the hospitals,
who told them that she had orders not to take any doctors round; but
as they were women and in uniform, they would probably pass as nurses,
and therefore she would show them some of the wards. They found the
accommodation had been stretched to the uttermost. Instead of four
hundred patients there were eight hundred. Rows of stretchers filled
the corridors, and the orderlies were stepping over the men in their
efforts to pass water or food among them. The dressings could not be
overtaken. The men were unwashed, and in many cases their dressings had
not been changed for days, owing to want of staff. They lay in Boulogne
for two or three days, and were then transferred to England. Everywhere
there was overcrowding, and it was evident that more hospitals were
needed.
The next day the officer in charge of one of the hospitals, finding
himself hopelessly short-handed, asked for the temporary assistance of
two women surgeons. Dr. Rosalie Jobson and Dr. Marjorie Blandy were
accordingly lent to him by the Corps. They became attached to his staff
and remained serving under the R.A.M.C. in this post for six months.
During this time the Corps maintained them, the Army accepting their
services gratis.
Acting on instructions from Paris, Dr. Gazdar called at the
headquarters of the Army Medical Service, and found that the Women’s
Hospital Corps was well known. She stated that the Corps proposed to
establish another hospital in Boulogne, and asked whether it would be
welcome to the authorities.
In reply, she was told:
‘If you had a place here, we should certainly use you. We know all
about your work in Paris.’
She then returned to Paris, where preparations were already being made
for the second hospital. The French Red Cross was willing that the Unit
should divide and extend its sphere of work, so long as it bore the
expense itself. And M. Falcouz offered them all assistance in obtaining
transport for the heavy luggage and permission to move the ambulances,
which Mlle Block and Miss Grey were anxious should go with them.
On the 1st of November Dr. Garrett Anderson and Dr. Flora Murray left
for Boulogne, to find a house for the new hospital and get it ready for
occupation.
The company in the very crowded railway carriage in which they
travelled included a lady and gentleman who had fled from Lille and
who were going to Calais. Madame had what she called ‘un petit panier’
on her knee, and very politely hoped it would not inconvenience her
fellow-passengers. The _panier_ measured twenty-eight by thirty-six
inches and contained two dainty little dogs. These howled whenever
Madame left the compartment, and she left it frequently, for she was
stout and the carriage was airless. When they howled, Monsieur beat on
the lid of the _panier_ and called them _bêtes_ and _infâmes_.
In one corner a French woman who had been nursing in a hospital for the
wounded recounted her experiences. She related how a German had lain in
the hospital, with both hands helpless; and how the nurses had always
attended to him last; how she herself, when she did anything for him,
always said:
‘I do not do this for my own pleasure, but because God has so commanded
me.’
And the carriage nodded its head in approval. Further, she described
how, being set to feed him with rice and milk, she made this remark
with each mouthful; till, goaded beyond bearing, the man spat the food
out in her face. And the carriage exclaimed with horror at the brute.
Then all the nurses gathered round to tell him what they thought of
him, and unanimously declared they would refuse ever to feed him again.
The _infirmière majeure_, being informed, said that she would feed him,
and with the spoon and basin she approached the bed. The poor man,
however, let himself go and ejected the rice and milk thus bestowed
upon him in the direction of the lady herself. The carriage lifted its
hands in horror, and agreed, as the raconteur continued, that after
that there was nothing more to be done, and the _Médecin-en-Chef_ had
to remove the wounded German.
With such tales the long journey was beguiled.