Rev. W. Benton 2i7 



terrific. One of the large German shells had hit the road and 

 made it impassable. There was a hole just as if a huge tree had 

 been pulled out by the roots. I also saw a fight in the air 

 between a German Taube and an English aeroplane. The 

 former soon cleared off, so the Englishman chased him for a bit 

 and then returned." 



November 25, 1914. — " I am attached now to the Lahore 

 Division clearing hospital. At our last place we cleared — that 

 is, took in, treated, and passed on — some one thousand two 

 hundred and fifty men in five days. Here we have had five 

 hundred and fifty through in two days, and I am feeling tired. 

 I was nearly asleep while walking about to-day. I am hoping 

 I may get a rest to-night, but a convoy of wounded may come 

 in any moment. 



" I heard of a horrid act of vengeance the other day. It was 

 told to me by an officer in the London Scottish who saw it 

 personally. A certain sergeant-major who had shot six or 

 seven Germans went out at night to try and find their rifles. 

 Two days afterwards, when the British got into the village, they 

 found him crucified to a door with bayonets. Whether done 

 before death or after, it was a vile act of revenge. These things 

 make me wild. I meant to write more, but they are calling for 

 me." 



No. 10 Clearing Station Hospital. 

 October 11.—" We are trying to keep up next Sunday in a 

 special way here, as it is St. Luke's Day, and so the great festival 

 for all connected with hospital work and the work of healing. 

 . . . By the way, if you could manage to send me a packet of 

 matches I would be very glad. They are a scarce commodity 

 here, and those we do get are no good and are tipped with yellow 

 sulphur. Some of the men call them ' Wait-a-bit ' ; the more 

 euphonious name is the good old English ' Stinker.' " 



In some of Mr. Benton's letters, when writing of the funerals 

 he had been taking, he says : 



" It is really a very impressive sight. All the people stand 

 still and cross themselves as we go by, and the soldiers, both 

 French and our own, stand to attention and salute as the 

 procession passes. . . , 



