January 24th, Dawn. It was about eight o'clock yesterday that the first alarm was given. In the stillness of the serene night the church bell began to toll; simultaneously the sound of whistles rent the air. Thinking it must be the military policemen on their nocturnal hunt for delinquents not yet in barracks, I put my head into a neighbouring café to drop a suggestive word of warning to two unwary sergeants lingering over their glasses of beer. It was not the military policemen, however, for from the distance a cry of "Fire!" resounded, and with the incredible rapidity characteristic of all rumours we learned that the Enteric Hospital was ablaze.
Guided by the smell of smoke and the dishevelled groups at the doorways, we found ourselves in the midst of the confusion. From the lower windows of the building a cloud of black smoke issued. Men on ladders, hose in hand, had smashed the windows—a fact which merely served to add fury to the flames.
"Turn the water on!" they cried, and even above the din of the gesticulating, gabbling crowd came the cry, "Turn the water on!" The Frenchman to whom the appeal was repeated shrugged his shoulders. He did not quite understand.
There is no wind; it is a divine night, as calm and clear as midsummer, with a bright moon looking smilingly on. It can yet be saved, this wonderful building, whence issue streams of khaki figures readjusting the respirators they had donned in place of smoke helmets, bearing with what care they can their precious burdens on beds and stretchers.
A voice beside me said:
"Here, you, take that!"
"That" proved to be a woman's form which the speaker was carrying with the aid of a frail-looking little V.A.D., who, from the way she held the patient, had obviously never been in such a position before. I gripped the man's hand, with a "Don't strain; lie easy!" to the patient. We got her into a neighbouring house, where already two or three other bad cases are installed. Their beds are tilted upwards, they are clad in their hospital garments only.
"Ah! You're there, Hope," says our burden, as we deposit her in a deep arm-chair, to the white-faced boy whose bed occupies most of the small room.
The coincidents of war are strange! It is supposedly from this very patient that she has contracted the disease.
"Yes, and he's an officer now," came a nurse's reply. "Gazetted to-day. Did you know?"