Full resolution (JPEG) - On this page / på denna sida - I. On the Way to the Front
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ON THE WAY TO THE FRONT 39
of mind enough to creep into a ditch for protection against
the weather and the firing. He had torn off strips of cloth
from his greatcoat and wound them round his wounds. Next
day the German ambulance men had found him, applied a
proper " first field dressing " and carried him to the nearest
field hospital, from which not long ago he had been conveyed
by rail to Treves.
Another soldier had been left l5^ng on the field for two
nights and had suffered maddening torture from thirst. The
thirst had if possible caused him greater suffering than his
wounds. Twice the Germans had in passing given him water
and chocolate. Finally the ambulance people had found him
and taken him to a field hospital. Like his comrade, he
expressed his gratitude for the treatment he had met with
here at Treves, and several assenting voices were heard from
the neighbouring beds. The two German doctors who took
us round told us that the French wounded usually did not
want to leave the hospital, as they knew that as soon as they
recovered they would be treated as ordinary prisoners. This
view of the matter is quite natural and is most certainly
shared by all wounded, no matter to what nation they belong.
For it is pleasanter to lie in one’s comfortable bed and be
coddled in every way, than to live in a barracks or a con-
centration camp with crowds of other prisoners, including
Senegalese negroes, Moroccans and Indians.
Finally our guide took us to the door of a room containing
three French officers. One of them, who had been shot
through the lung, slept well and did not permit himself to be
disturbed by our talk. Another had a more dangerous lung
wound and was continually troubled by a nasty cough which,
whenever it attacked him, threw his head backwards and
forwards with great violence. His condition was considered
very critical, and even if one had known the address of his
people it would have been no relief to them to learn his con-
dition.
The third, a big and somewhat stout Captain, had served
for several years in southernmost Morocco and was accustomed
to little scraps with the Tuaregs in the Sahara. But this was
something very different. It was terrible, terrible ! He had
been called home from his African station to take part in
this horrible struggle. His right foot had been smashed in a
fight in Belgium by a rifle bullet, whilst another had carried
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