was still working there, but he was absolutely worn out and went off
before long, as he had still cases to attend to in the town before he
went to his well-earned bed. He carried off the two Sisters with him,
till the morning, and I was left alone with two or three Red Cross
damsels to face the night. It is a dreadful nightmare to look back at.
Blood-stained uniforms hastily cut off the soldiers were lying on the
floor--half-open packets of dressings were on every locker; basins of
dirty water or disinfectant had not been emptied; men were moaning with
pain, calling for water, begging that their dressings might be done
again; and several new cases just brought in were requiring urgent
attention. And the cannon never ceased booming. I was not accustomed to
it then, and each crash meant to me rows of men mown down--maimed or
killed. I soon learnt that comparatively few shells do any damage,
otherwise there would soon be no men left at all. In time, too, one gets
so accustomed to cannon that one hardly hears it, but I had not arrived
at that stage then: this was my baptism of fire.

Among the other miseries of that night was the dreadful shortage of all
hospital supplies, and the scarcity of food for the men. There was a
little coffee which they would have liked, but there was no possibility
of hot water. The place had been hastily fitted up with electric light,
and the kitchen was arranged for steam cooking, so there was not even a
gas-jet to heat anything on. I had a spirit-lamp and methylated spirit
in my portmanteau, but, as I said, my luggage had been all wafted away
at Hal.

But the night wore away somehow, and with the morning light came plans
of organization and one saw how things could be improved in many ways,
and the patients made more comfortable. The hospital was a place of
great possibilities in some ways; its position standing almost at the