Hospitals in the western field
of war are now plentiful and some are well equipped. The days of
bedding wounded men down on straw are largely in the past, but how to
prevent the ravages of dirt, the so-called "dirt diseases" of gaseous
gangrene, blood poisoning, tetanus, is the problem.
I did not see the first exchange of hopelessly wounded prisoners that
took place at Flushing, while I was on the Continent. It must have
been a tragic sight. They lined up in two parties at the railroad
station, German surgeons and nurses with British prisoners, British
surgeons and nurses with German prisoners.
Then they were counted off, I am told. Ten Germans came forward, ten
British, in wheeled chairs, on crutches, the sightless ones led. The
exchange was made. Then ten more, and so on. What a sight! What a
horror! No man there would ever be whole again. There were men without
legs, without arms, blind men, men twisted by fearful body wounds. Two
hundred and sixteen British officers and men, and as many Germans,
were exchanged that day.
"They were, however, in the best of spirits," said the London Times of
the next day!
At Folkestone a crowd was waiting on the quay, and one may be sure
that heads were uncovered as the men limped, or were led or wheeled,
down the gang-plank. Kindly English women gave them nosegays of
snowdrops and violets.
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