The scene of my activities is the public baths in the Rue des Vieillards, that have been rented from the old proprietress. With six orderlies to do the rough work—the washing of towels, the cleaning of the twenty baths, and my own spacious office in which to do the men's dressings—things are cheerful enough.
About 100 men come through each day—the convalescents in the morning, so that the whole forenoon is taken up with dressings.
The difficulties at first were many, a fact which considerably enhanced the joy of the work.
1. To get the place clean was a veritable chef-d'œuvre.
2. Drawing things from the Ordnance is no easy matter. One must not buy what may be drawn; and as I have no notion of what can be drawn there is often considerable delay.
3. Persuading the orderlies that water for dressings must be boiled, and not lukewarm, is likewise far from easy.
The days are no longer so strenuous. I arrive at eight to see that the men are getting on with their work, cut up dressings, leave out and mark towels until ten o'clock, when the convalescents begin to arrive.
By 3.30 I am able to go down to the clearing station to write letters for the helpless.
To-day a man who was brought in with a badly fractured pelvis dictated one to his brother. It ran:
"Dear George,—After going through all the big battles of Mons, the Marne and the Aisne, I am sad to say I've got hit at last, but hope soon to be home with you all. I'm glad to know you've joined to be a soldier, and hope soon to hear you're helping in the fight."