February 22, 1916.
There have been two big attacks and we have had our hands full. Since Sunday the cannonading has gone on without ceasing. It seems to be all round us. At night we can see the flashes of the guns quite distinctly, in fact the sky is lit up most of the time. It is like the reflection of a great fire—it would be very beautiful if one could get away from the horror of what it all means.
The aeroplanes were almost as thick as the motors—one came down in a field near the hospital yesterday—the wings were riddled with bullets, but fortunately the aviator was not hurt. We often see taubes, and Zeppelins have gone over us several times, though I could not recognize them, but the noise was unmistakeable. The wounded are nearly all brought in at night so we have our hearts and hands full. The other night twenty-three came in at once so we had to call up the day people to help us; seventeen were operated upon and all are getting well but one.
From the twenty-third July, 1915, until the first January, 1916, seven hundred and fifty patients have been cared for here and sixty-six have died. I have had over one hundred wounded come in at night this last month, and as they all come directly from the trenches you can imagine what it means.
Such a fine box came from Mrs. S—— and F—— containing bandages, socks, etc., all most welcome.
The ground is white with snow to-day but it will not stay long.
It is very difficult to get nurses here as a command of the French language is an essential.
The guns are still at it, so there will be much to do to-night.