It has been awfully cold so far and rains most of the time. We have decided that we shall just keep putting on clothes like the Italians do in winter and never take anything off.
We get wounded every day, sometimes not more than half a dozen, but as they are almost all seriously wounded we are kept busy.
There have been so many troops moving on lately, that we thought we would be left without anything to do. We have orders not to do anything that is not absolutely necessary as we may have to move also.
I believe the hospital at Divonne has been taken over by the nuns. I miss the lovely flowers that I had there. I share a small room with two other nurses and there is not much room to spare. We have boxes put up on end for tables and wash-stands, and there is only one chair. Some of the nurses have tents, two in each.
We have had a terrible busy week. All the new ones that came into my ward lived only thirty-six or forty-eight hours—they were too far gone to save. Five went away cured, and they really were cases to be proud of.
I think it was the sweetest thing of little Mary Murray to send me her birthday money for my soldiers. I have been getting them fruit and cigarettes for Sunday. That is the thing that overwhelms me at times—the awful suffering every way one turns. Dorothy Thompson sent me £5, much to my joy.
Last night I could not sleep for the noise of the guns; they must have been bombarding some place near at hand, for the whole earth seemed to shake.
The boys who drive the American ambulance and bring our patients in say this place is a sort of heaven to them, they are always glad to get here. Mrs. T—— does everything she can for them. They are a nice lot of boys and are doing good work.
Some of the poor men who have lost large pieces of their intestines find the hospital diet a little hard.