They were soon at the border of the French field hospital. It was only natural that Thad and his comrades should survey the scene with a wonder closely approaching awe. They had passed through a good many strange experiences during the past two years, as we happen to know, but never before had their eyes taken in such a remarkable picture as that now spread out before them.
The French Red Cross Corps had picked out this position for the emergency hospital with an eye both to convenience and safety. While it was close enough to the battle line to prove of vast service, and wounded men could be carried to the operating tables without much loss of precious minutes; at the same time it was at an angle where the numerous white flags with the sacred Red Cross might easily be seen from the German lines.
No cannon were allowed near by, so that every excuse for shells dropping in that sector had apparently been avoided.
It was a busy scene that the boys gazed upon. Streams of men with stretchers passed back and forth, those coming in bearing burdens and those going out after others.
Ambulances, vans and all manner of wheeled vehicles were moving this way and that, loading up with their human freight that was to be transported forthwith to the hospitals of Paris and beyond.
Bustling surgeons could be seen. Bumpus quailed at the sight of their stained aprons. He felt as though he were in close touch with a butcher shop; but not by a word or a whimper did he disclose the dreadful feeling that so nearly overwhelmed his rapidly beating heart.
In the midst of all this apparent confusion haste seemed to be the only predominant requisite. The wounded were streaming in so fast that only superficial attention could be paid to individual cases. Machine-like work was the order of the day. Army surgeons, when the battle is on, cannot appear humane. They must do their necessary work methodically, for they are engaged in a wholesale business where sympathy can have little part.
But the boys did not mean to stand there gaping for long. Thad and Allan were resolved to find some part in the great work of serving suffering humanity. This was a task that even neutrals could engage in. They would just as readily assist in binding up the wounds of a German prisoner as a French hero; it made no difference.
So Thad led the way into the midst of those grewsome sights, dodging several moving vans that were coming or going, their drivers shouting at the top of their voices, for even here the roar of the raging battle was strenuous.
Perhaps Bumpus would have liked to stand a bit and cast his eyes far across the open country to where the smoky pall was hovering and the opposing armies struggled in a death grip; but Thad meant business, and the time for watching stirring events had temporarily passed.