The French soldiers who were admitted to the hospital were in a much worse condition than the British. To begin with, they were of a more intellectual and imaginative temperament, and they suffered in mind as well as in body. They had borne great hardships, for their clothing and equipment, and especially their commissariat, fell far below the British standard.
One of those admitted was Pte. Darcy of the Légion étrangère. He was one of several hundred young Englishmen resident in Paris who, on the outbreak of war, had precipitately joined the French Army. When wounded, he insisted on being put out of the train near Paris, that he might go to an English hospital. As he recovered, he told how he had joined in a hurry because he feared that he would miss all the fighting if he went home and went through his training. He described his experiences with the French Army: the severe training of recruits, the inadequate accommodation, the lack of bedding, clothing, food, and the indifferent medical attention. In the trenches his regiment remained unrelieved for long periods, and for weeks his food was bread and a sardine. Both he and his brother had married French women and lived in Paris. His brother had been shell-shocked and was deaf and dumb, and being unable to protest, had been removed to a French hospital in the provinces. With a good deal of trouble his transfer to Claridge’s was effected; and the two brothers had beds side by side and were very happy in their reunion.
Other men in the ward became much interested in the cure of ‘Darcy’s brother,’ as every one called him, and combined to stand behind him and yell all together, to try and make him hear. The din was terrible, but it gave the whole ward great pleasure; and when at last, one evening, Darcy’s brother heard and turned round and smiled at them, they cheered vociferously. Soon after this he recovered his speech also; and, in his delight, it seemed to the staff as though from that moment he never ceased talking.
They came from all over France, these men—from north and south, from the Pyrénées and the Vosges: Zouaves, Moroccans, Bretons, Alsatians—with their various types and uniforms, and, what was more embarrassing, with their various patois. The nurses learnt their tastes in food and in wine; they studied the difference in their temperaments; prepared tisanes and special dishes, and made them all happy and at home. A simple Poilu could not sleep at night for wonder and delight at being in a marble hall. His melancholy neighbour answered every inquiry about his arm with ‘Ça pique; ça pique toujours.’ Sergeant Jacquot had innumerable smart lady friends. And ‘le Caporal’ had quaint old parents from the Midi, who travelled all night to come and see him and bring him a cheese and raisin wine.
The French soldier associated with the British very readily, joining in his games and songs as though the difference of language was no impediment to understanding. He was the most grateful and appreciative of patients—glad to be nursed, massaged and well treated. Only, now and then, he would say:
‘Our hospitals are not like that.’
This was the only criticism of his country’s institutions that ever escaped him; for his patience under hardship was wonderful. His thick red trousers were always too large for him; his heavy long blue coat was most cumbersome, and his boots left much to be desired. His under-clothing was of cotton; and he might or might not have socks with which to face the damp and cold in the trenches. But he was a valiant and an intrepid fighter, and his intense patriotism made him the most uncomplaining and enduring of men.
Some of those who found refuge at Claridge’s had been shelled out of three hospitals and had lain on straw in a cellar for six weeks. Others had homes in the occupied area and did not know what had become of their wives and families. Most of them had closed their shops and left their business, and their future was uncertain. But, one and all, they were certain of victory, and confidently referred to the time when the German should be beaten.
The hardships of the winter and the wet climate told very heavily upon the Algerians, who reached hospital in a miserable condition. They were the victims of severe frostbite, and in one case, at any rate, both feet had to be amputated. This man remained in the hospital for a considerable time. Mrs. Kemp, who visited his ward, was very kind in bringing fruit to him and his compatriots, for they loved to consume large quantities of it. One day she asked him what he would like for a present, and he said that his desire was to possess a valise. He received it, when she brought it, with wide smiles. It was covered with grey cloth, and had shiny black leather straps and handles and was considered very attractive. At the earliest opportunity he summoned his doctor to his bedside, and showing her the valise, asked for his feet. Alas! they had not been preserved, and he was bitterly disappointed.
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