But at one they're all called. The railhead, three kilometres off, has been shelled. A convoy has brought forty casualties. Half of them must pass through the theatre without delay. So the nerve-jangling work recommences, and goes on past the murky dawn, beyond the breakfast hour. It is snowing hard. They are hard-pressed to keep the theatre warm enough for delicate surgery. To equalise the temperature has become impossible. But things are as they are, and cannot be bettered; and there will come an end to this spurt, though how long will be the respite, who can say? It would be longer if the surgeons were not so dangerously understaffed. There's —— on a long-deferred and necessary leave; there are —— and —— who have fallen ill: one through the overstrain of incessant surgery; the other a victim to his sopping, inclement tent. The watchword is Carry on. There may be assistance by importation to the staff; on the other hand, there may not. There will be, if possible; but the pressure is severe all over the Somme Hospitals during the offensive, and the bases are drained.
The hospital railhead was shelled one afternoon. One may have the charity to surmise the Hun was shooting at the aerodrome; which stands seven hundred yards from the hospital; for the shell fell about the aerodrome rather than in the C.C.S. However that may be, shell did burst in the hospital, either by accident or design.
The order was to evacuate immediately. The Colonel ordered the Sisters to enter a car and be transported beyond range. They declined. The Colonel, a bachelor, not skilled in negotiation with the long-haired sex, commanded the matron to command them. Matron ordered them to their tents to prepare to flit. She went to them in ten minutes' time. "Are you ready?"—"No, Matron; there's a small mutiny brewing here. If the patients are to go, we're going with them."—"I'm not going; I was just in the middle of my dressings; I'm going to finish the others."—"They shan't go without us, Matron!" ... So with a splendid indignation they disobeyed. The Matron is accustomed to obedience, but she didn't get it. She went to the Colonel and explained. "Well, damn 'em! the witches! Let 'em have their way!" The Matron broke into a run. "Take your flasks and your hypodermics; you can go!"
So they superintended all the removings, attending here and there with the merciful preliminary syringe; and, when the preliminaries to the journey were over, jumped up with the car-drivers, and the evacuation began into a field on the —— road. Those that could walk, walked; and some that couldn't well walk had to do so....
They laid them out in rows, by wards. Some were dying. Some died on the way. Some died in the grass, cut by the bitter wind as they lay there gazing into the unkindly heaven. The rain came in frozen gusts. Those still hovering on the border-line were blown and soaked into death. The groaning of the wounded was hideous. Shattered limbs are hard to bear in the complete comfort of a civilian hospital. What is a wounded man to do but die, exposed to the pelting rain of the Somme winter? Brandy and hot tea and cigarettes brought a transient consolation: most men were insensible to aid from such fragmentary comfort. It began to be plain that the risk from shell-fire was not more dangerous than this from exposure; a return was ordered. Sisters, doctors, patients, concurred with equal fervour. And so they were taken back.
The shelling had ceased.
Next morning came the ambulance-train.