Field Hospital and Flying Column(Annotated)

Contents

CHAPTER PAGE
I. THE BEGINNING OF IT ALL 1
II. CHARLEROI AND ROUND ABOUT 16
III. OUR HOSPITAL AND PATIENTS 37
IV. THE RETURN TO BRUSSELS 53
V. A MEMORABLE JOURNEY 76
VI. A PEACEFUL INTERLUDE 92
VII. OUR WORK IN WARSAW 113
VIII. THE BOMBARDMENT OF LODZ 128
IX. MORE DOINGS OF THE FLYING COLUMN 144
X. BY THE TRENCHES AT RADZIVILOW 161
INDEX 179

I
THE BEGINNING OF IT ALL
War, war, war. For me the beginning of the war was a torchlight tattoo on Salisbury Plain. It was held on one of those breathless evenings in July when the peace of Europe was trembling in the balance, and when most of us had a heartache in case--in case England, at this time of internal crisis, did not rise to the supreme sacrifice.
It was just the night for a tattoo--dark and warm and still. Away across the plain a sea of mist was rolling, cutting us off from the outside world, and only a few pale stars lighted our stage from above.
The field was hung round with Chinese lanterns throwing weird lights and shadows over the mysterious forms of men and beasts that moved therein. It was fascinating to watch the stately entrance into the field, Lancers, Irish Rifles, Welsh Fusiliers, Grenadiers and many another gallant regiment, each marching into the field in turn to the swing of their own particular regimental tune until they were all drawn up in order.
There followed a very fine exhibition of riding and the usual torchlight tricks, and then the supreme moment came. The massed bands had thundered out the first verse of the Evening Hymn, the refrain was taken up by a single silver trumpet far away--a sweet thin almost unearthly note more to be felt than heard--and then the bands gathered up the whole melody and everybody sang the last verse together.
The Last Post followed, and then I think somehow we all knew.
* * * * *
A week later I had a telegram from the Red Cross summoning me to London.
London was a hive of ceaseless activity. Territorials were returning from