12 
LAND & WATER 
January J, iQiS 
With a Field Ambulance 
By Green Patch 
OX a (liillv, (lamp night last spring wo bad dined 
with the "officers of a field ambulance in the little 
wooden hut that housed their mess. A heavy 
action had been in progress for several days, during 
which time the (iermans had i)een forced out of a notable 
stronghold, and had retreated sullenly, harassed by the 
infantrs" and pounded incessantly by the guns. During 
dinner the arrival of several loads of patients drew most of 
the officers away to the dressing station. 
The scene here was typical of a field ambulance main 
dressing station fluring a "show." Ambulance cars, drawing 
up in front of the door discharged their quota of patients. 
Assisted by orderlies, these silently straggled into the hut, 
standing for a moment confused and blinking in the strong 
acetylene light. Stretcher cases, carefully lowered from the 
racks, were carried in by the bearers, 'and laid in a neat line 
along one wall. Hot drinks, coffee, cocoa and soup were 
rapidly dispensed, and so were large beef sandwiches — to 
all who could take them. Dressings had to be examined 
and, if necessary, changed, anti-tetanus serum administered, 
records completed, and in general the men prepared for 
their trip to the casualty clearing station. 
As the iiot footl and warmth began to thaw their stiffened 
bodies the wounded became more talkative, and little epics 
of the fight were bandied about in Tofnmy's trench language, 
'riiere was no complaining — there practically never is : 
grousing is re.served for matters of real importance, as, 
for instance, when plum jam is too prevalent, or " bully " 
takes the place of the expected fresh meat, or, still more often, 
upon the distribution of fatigues. The men's equipment 
and the stretchers were wet through, and plastered witli 
puttj- coloured day, which is the winter livery of thp line. 
Here and there a man, utterly exhausted, fell asleep on a 
bench or on the floor. One stretcher case guarded with his 
arm a German helmet. Many carried little odds and ends of 
the usual trashy nature, which are so nuich prized as souvenirs. 
We boarded a returning ambulance, and proceeded slowlv 
along a road thick with traffic. The mud was bad, and small 
pools disguised treacherous holes that were a constant 
menace to springs and axles. A run of two miles and the car 
drew up at an ambulance station, near a siding of a line of 
trench railway. Here a '' hospital train " of small low trucks 
was being loaded by ambulance men with rations, stretchers, 
blankets, bales of dressings, a jar or two of rum, and evep a 
case of oranges for the forward posts. 
The gasolene engine, a squat little monstrosity, of the pit- 
head type, was clanking and snorting in its desire to be off. 
and being presently given its head by the dri\-er, a philosophic 
wag in a tin hat, jolted its load of "trucks into motion. The 
scenery was not remarkable— darkness and a thin rain blot- 
ting out the landscape. 
The train, gathering way, shortly attained a speed of about 
15 miles per hour. We passed a 'tramway control post and 
the driver's man established a " block ",'in the line beliind 
us by the simple expedient of holding up a red lantern. A 
few minutes sufficed to reach tramway headquarters. This 
was a sand-bag hut, constructed (so true is the railway man's 
homing instinct) inside the remains of a French "railway 
station, lying on the outskirts of the village of C -. 
The night was \-ocal with a medley of sounds, near at hand 
the chcking of the motor engine, the crash of the guns, the 
sharp scream of the sliells gradually dying away into a purr, 
• the distant rattle of machine guns (well called by the men 
"typewriters"). We turned from watching the" flare and 
flicker of German star shells ahead to find the tramway officer 
speaking. " Good evening, I'm coming up to D— ^ 
with you, to see if everything is correct. The engine is on 
behind now. we push in from here." 
We seated oursel\-cs on the front truck, and were soon off. 
To the blase person seeking a new sensation, I would unhesi- 
tatingly recommend a night ride on the head end of a trencii 
tram, as liaving its littjt- thrills. Your truck, propelled b>- 
its clanking vis-a-tergo, dashes ahead in uncanny fashion, it 
being too dark to see much of the narrow track in front. 
Every curve gives a sensation of flying off into space, and there 
Ls always the chance of a hole in the track. In a few minutes 
we were passing through the remains of S Wood, 
a bit of ground that will remain to Prance for all time sacred 
with sacrifice. Twice we crossed a small stream. 
The sounds of gun fire were increasing in volume, and 
flashes could be seen on all sides, and it was apparent that 
we were drawing near the centre of things. .Suddenly the 
train entered a small cutting. Above us a couple of ma'chine 
gun.s were raising a most infernal clatter— busily engaged in 
sowiner an indirect barrage on the enemy's line. "On emerging 
again into the open, we found ourselves running across a 
shallow valley. Beyond this loomed an indistinct mass. 
" That's the Ridge," said G. 
We drew in at the foot of the slope, and saw in front our 
destination — a tunnel of roomy dimensions into which the 
track ran. On entering the place one perceived several 
dressing r«oms and sleeping quarters, opening off the main 
shaft. A number of the field ambulance bearers, who were 
stationed here, on the command of a sergeant, Ijegaii 
carrying in the stores we had brought up. 
A Hospital Dug-Out 
Having ascertained that the train would not leave for nearly 
an hour, G. and I procured a guide and set off to visit one of 
the regimental aid posts farther up the slope. Thegoiiig 
was bad, owing to the torn nature of the country— the ground 
being a mass of shell holes, trenches, and wire, and after mugli 
floundering and a stiff climb of about a quarter of an hour, 
we arrived covered with mud and rather breathless. An 
opening on the face of the incline gave access to a long passage 
sloping downwards at an angle of about 20 degrees. A hun- 
dred yards of this, and we entered a low room, where we 
found the battalion medical officer and one from the field 
ambulance. In bunks men were sleeping, while several lightly 
wounded reclined on the floor. The atmosphere of the place 
was very substantial. It seemed largely composed of char- 
coal fumes from the brasier in the centre, but tobacco smoke, 
the odour of damp chalk, chloride of lime and well-worn 
clothes struggled nobly for the ascendancy. 
We lit cigarettes and enquired about the" clearing of patients, 
supplies of dressings, rations and so forth. Everything 
appeared to be going well. Mugs .of tea were handed around! 
" You're being relieved shortly. Old Thing," said G., "what 
price a hot bath ?" " You'll" be asking me next if I care to 
go on leave," retorted the M.O. " Meanwhile, Bill and I 
are scratching along quite comfortably. One lump please, 
dear, and no cream." 
We emerged into the fresh air, accompanied by several 
lightly wounded men who were able to walk and a squad of 
bearers carrying a stretcher case. The descent was a tedious 
proceeding. It is marvellous how, it was accomplished at 
all by the bearers over that ground in the dark, but 
they finally got their patient safely down. As the party 
reached the level, a few Hun shells began to burst on 
the Ridge. At the train parties of bearers were carrying 
stretcher cases from the tunnel to the trucks. This took 
time, and it was some minutes before the walking wounded 
were helped to their places. Someone flashed an electric 
torch and an officer ordered him sharply to put it out. 
Finally the car^ had their full load — 25 patients. The motion- 
less forms on their stretchers covered with blankets on the 
forward trucks, and the lightly wounded filling up all the 
extra space — an irregular patchwork of white bandages show- 
ing in the dark— the rest being almost invisible. 
I asked the dri\er if shelling smashed his track \ery often. 
" Quite frequent, sir," he replied. " We sometimes get 
fi\-e or six breaks in the track in a night when things are 
quiet, and the Germans can hear' the train coming up, or 
when there is a ' show ' on. The shrapnel is all right, but 
it gets my wind up \\hen he drops H.E; on the track, in front 
and behind and then starts on the train." n 
The engine was already humming, but something seemed 
wrong with its internal economy, as the regular beat gave 
])lace to a series of asthmatic coughs and finally ceased al- 
together. The driver was engaged with its levers when there 
was a shrill thin scream, and a whizz-bang passed over the 
train and burst a few yards to the left. The wounded ob- 
served it silently, and with little show of interest. A number 
of tlnngs followed, kicking up showers of sparks and mud. 
'I he driver, who was crouching over the engine, quickly got 
the train in motion, ("Oli, moments that seem long as years," 
murmured G.), and we drew slowlv away, leaving the strafe 
in progress. _ I heard a man witli 'his arm in a sling remark 
to a chum : " He certainly done his best to kiss us good-bye." 
Gathering speed wc raced through the cutting, under" our 
friends the machine gurs, which were still giving tongue. The 
rest of the journey was uneventful. One could only think 
what a useful meth(xl of clearing this was, compared to the 
slow and painful jolt of ambulance wagons o\-er bad roads 
The train drew up at the liuts of the field ambulance 
station, and orderlies came out to assist the wounded into 
the haven of warmth and light. 
"All oft, boys, first change for 'Blighty.' " called a sergeant. 
