November 2, 1916 
LAND & WATER 
15 
route and into safety before any shells fell ntar us. It 
appears that the Germans systematically bombard the 
roads at night hoping to destroy the camions bringing 
up the food for the city, fresh munitions and men. 
We slept that night at Bar-le-Duc and next morning 
saw the various ambulances and hospitals which the 
Service de Sante had particularly requested me to \isit. 
I was impressed by the splendid organisation of the Red 
Cross even quite close to the firing line. 
Passsing through one tent hospital an Algerian called 
out to me : 
" 0/ie, la blonde, viens ici ! J'ai quclque chose de 
b.'au a te monirer." 
He was sitting up in bed, and, as I approached, 
unbuttoned his bed- jacket and insisted on my ex- 
amining the tag of his vest on which was written, 
" Leader, I^ondon." The vest had come in a parcel 
of goods from the London Committee of the French 
Ived Cross, and I only wished that the angel of goodness 
and tenderness who is the Presidente of the Croix Rouge, 
Mme. de la Panouse, arid that Mr. D. H. Illingworth, 
Mr. Phihp Wilkins, and all her able lieutenants, could 
have seen the pleasure on the face of this swarthy 
defender of France. In the next bed was a Senegalais 
who endeavoured to attract my attention by keeping 
up a running com})liment to my compatriots, my King, 
and myself. He must have chanted tifty times : " Vive 
Ics English, Georges, cl loi ! " He continued even 
after I had rewarded him with some cigarettes. The 
Senegalais and the Algerians are really great children, 
esj)ecially when they are wounded. I have seen con- 
\alescent Senegalais and Algerians in Paris spend hours 
in the Champs Elysees watching the entertainment 
at the open-air marionette theatre. The antics of 
the dolls kept them amused. They are admitted to the 
enclosure free, and there is no longer any room for the 
children who frequented the show in happier days. 
These latter form a disconsolate circle on the outside 
whilst tli;; younger ones, who do not suffer from colour 
prejudice, scramble on to the knees of the black soldiers. 
The Sister in Charge 
The sister in charge was a true daughter of the " Lady 
of the Lamp." Provided they are really ill she sym- 
pathises with all the grumblers, but scolds them if 
they have reached the convalescent stage. She carries 
a small book in which she enters imaginary good points 
to those who ha\c the tables by their beds tidy, and she 
pinned an invisible medal on the chest of a convalescent 
who v;as helping to carry trays of food to his comrades. 
She is indeed a General, saving men for France. 
Not a man escaped her attention, and as we passed 
through the tents she gave to each of her chcrs 
cnfan'.s — black or white, a cheering smile or a kindly 
word. She did, however, whilst talking to us omit to 
salute a Senegalais. Before she passed out of the 
tent he began to call after her : " Tot pas gentille 
aiijourd'hui, moi batlre loi," (You are not good to me 
to-day, me beat you). This it appears is his little joke — 
he will never beat anyone again, since he lost both his 
arms when his trench was blown up by a land mine. 
It was at Triancourt that I lirst saw in operation the 
motor cars that had been sent out fitted with bath tubs 
for the troops, and also a very fine car fitted up by the 
London Committee of the French Red Cross as a moving 
dental hospital. 
I regret to add that a Poilu near by disrespect- 
fully referred to it as " another of the horrors of war," 
adding, that in times of peace there was some kind of 
personal liberty, whereas now " a man could not have 
toothache without being forced to hkve it ended, and 
that there was no possibility of escaping a dentist who 
hunted you down by motor." 
It was suggested that as I had had a touch of tooth- 
ache the night before, I might take my place in the chair 
and give an example of British pluck to the assembled 
Poilus. I hastened to imprest on the surgeon that I 
hated notoriety and would prefer to remain modestly in 
the background. I even pushed aside with scorn the 
proffered bribe of six Bosche buttons, assuring the 
man that " I would keep my toothache as a souvenir." 
At one of the hospitals beside the bi'd of a dying man, 
-it ;i littlr i>l(l iii:in writing letter^. They told me that 
before the war he had owned the most nourishing wine 
shop in the village. He had fled before the approach of 
the (icrman troops, but later returned to his village and 
installed himself in the hospital as scribe. He wrote from 
morning until night, and watching him stretching his 
lean old hands I asked him if he suffered much pain 
from writers' cramp. He looked at me almost re- 
proachfully before answering, " Mademoiselle, it is tlie 
least I can do for my country, besides my pain is so 
shght and that of the comrades is so great. I am proud, 
indeed proud, that at 67 years of age, I am not useless." 
At one hospital I was shown a copy of the last letter 
dictated by a young French officer, and I asked to be 
allowed to copy it' — it was indeeji a " chic " letter. 
Chers Parrain el Marrainc, 
]c vous ecris a vous pour nc pas tuer Maman qiiun 
pareil coup surprendrait trop. J'ai ele blesse le. . . 
dcvant . . . J'ai deux blessures hideuses cl je n'cn aurai 
pas pour bien longlemps. Les majors ne me le cachcnt 
memc pas. 
Je pars sans regrel avec la conscience d'avoir fail mon 
devoir. Prevenez done mcs parenls le mieii.x que vous 
pourrez : qu'ils nc cherchcnl pas a venir, ils n'en auraient 
pas le temps. Adieu vous tous que j'aimais. 
VIVE LA FRANCE! 
Dear Godfather and Godmother, — I am writing to you, 
so as not to kill Mother whom such a shock would surprise 
too much. I was wounded on the ... at . . I have 
two horrible wounds and I cannot last long. The surgeons 
do not attempt even to conceal this from me. I go 
without regret, with the consciousness of having done my 
duty. Kindly break the news to my parents the best 
way you can ; they should not attempt to come because 
they would not have time to reach me before the end.— 
Farewell to all you whom I have loved. 
Whilst loving his relatives tenderly, the last thought of 
the dying Frenchman is for his country. Each one dies 
as a hero, yet not one realises it. It would be impossible 
to show greater simplicity ; they salute the flag for the 
last time and that is all. 
From Triaucourt we went straight to the headquarters of 
General NivcUe. They had just brought him the maps 
rectihed to mark the French advance. The advance had 
been made whilst we were standing on the terrace at Ver- 
dun the night before. We had seen the rockets sent up, 
requesting a lir de barrage (curtain of fire). The 75's 
had replied at once and the French had been able to carry 
out the operation. 
Good news had also come in from the Sommej and 
General Nivelle did not hesitate to express his admiration 
for the British soldiers. He said that there was no need 
to praise the lirst troops sent by Britain to France, 
everyone knew their value, but it should be a great 
satisfaction to Britain to find that the new Army was 
living up to the traditions of the old Army. 
He added : " We can describe the new Army of Britain 
in two words : Ca mord — it bites." 
The father of his own men, it is not surprising that 
General Nivelle finds a warm corner in his heart for the 
British soldier, since his mother was an Englishwoman. 
At lunch General Nivelle and the members of his staff 
asked many questions as to the work of the Scottish 
Women's Hospitals. I told them that what appealed te 
us most in our French patients was the perfect discipline 
and the gratitude of the men. W^eareall women in the 
Hospitals, and the men might take advantage of this fact 
to show want of discipline, but we never had to complain 
of lack of obedience. These soldiers of F'rance may 
some of them before the war have been just rough 
peasants, eating, drinking, and sleeping ; even having 
thoughts not akin to knighthood, but now, through the 
ordeal of blood and fire, each one of them has won his 
spurs and come out a chi\alrous knight, and they bring 
their chi\'alry right into the hospitals with them. We had 
also learned to love them for their kindness to one another. 
When new wounded are brought in and the lights are low 
in the hospital wards, cautiously watching if the Nurse is 
looking (luckily Nurses have a way of not seeing every- 
thing) one of the convalescents will creep from his 
bed to the side of the new arrival and ask the inevitable 
question : " D'ou viens-tu ? " (where do you come from ?) 
" I come from Toulouse " replies the man. " Ah " says 
the en(]uircr, " my wife's grandmother had a cousin who 
