The White Road to Verdun

by Kathleen Burke

It was strange to find there, within the sound of the guns-- sometimes the glasses on the table danced to the music although no one took any notice of that--surrounded by men directing the operations of the war and of one of the greatest battles in history, how little War was mentioned. Science, Philosophy and the work of women were discussed.

The men of France are taking deep interest in the splendid manner in which the women of all the different nations are responding to the call to service. I described to General Petain the work of the Scottish Women's Hospitals. These magnificent hospitals are organised and staffed entirely by women and started, in the first instance, by the Scottish Branch of the National Union of Women's Suffrage. He was deeply interested to learn that what had been before the War a political society had, with that splendid spirit of patriotism which had from the first day of the war animated every man, woman and child of Great Britain, drawn upon its funds and founded the Hospital Units. I explained to him that it was no longer a question of politics, but simply a case of serving humanity and serving it to the best possible advantage. The National Union had realised that this was a time for organised effort on the part of all women for the benefit of the human race and the alleviation of suffering.

I spoke of the bravery of our girls in Serbia; how many of them had laid down their lives during the typhus epidemic; how cheerfully they had borne hardships, our doctors writing home that their tent hospitals were like "great white birds spreading their wings under the trees," whereas really they had often been up all night hanging on to the tent poles to prevent the tents collapsing over their patients.

A member of the Etat Major asked how we overcame the language difficulty. I pointed out that to diagnose typhus and watch the progress of the patient it was not necessary to speak to him, and that by the magic language of sympathy we managed to establish some form of "understanding" between the patients, the Doctors, and the Nurses. The members of our staff were chosen as far as possible with a knowledge of French or German, and it was possible to find many Serbians speaking either one of these languages. We also found interpreters amongst the Austrian prisoner orderlies. These prisoner orderlies had really proved useful and had done their best to help us. Naturally they had their faults. One of our Lady Doctors had as orderly a Viennese Professor, willing but somewhat absent-minded. One morning she sent for him and asked him: "Herr Karl, can you tell me what was wrong with my bath water this morning?" "I really don't know, Fraulein, but I will endeavour to find out."

Ten minutes later he returned, looking decidedly guilty and stammered out, "I do not know how to tell you what happened to that bath water." "Nonsense, it can't be very terrible," replied Doctor X. "What was wrong?" "Well, Fraulein, when I went into the camp kitchen this morning there were two cauldrons there, one was your bath water, and the other was the camp soup. To you, Fraulein, I brought the camp soup."

We who had worked with the Serbians had learned to respect and admire them for their patriotism, courage and patient endurance. We felt that their outstanding characteristic was their imagination, which, turned into the proper channels and given a chance to develop, should produce for the world not only famous painters and poets but also great inventors. This vivid imagination is found in the highest and lowest of the land. To illustrate it, I told my neighbour at table a tale related to me by my good friend Dr. Popovic. "Two weary, ragged Serbian soldiers were sitting huddled together waiting to be ordered forward to fight. One asked the other, 'Do you know how this War started, Milan? You don't. Well then I'll tell you. The Sultan of Turkey sent our King Peter a sack of rice. King Peter looked at the sack, smiled, then took a very small bag and went into his garden and filled it with red pepper. He sent the bag of red pepper to the Sultan of Turkey. Now, Milan, you can see what that meant. The Sultan of Turkey said to our Peter, 'My army is as numerous as the grains of rice in this sack,' and by sending a small bag of red pepper to the Sultan our Peter replied, 'My Army is not very numerous, but it is mighty hot stuff.'"

Many members of the Units of the Scottish Women's Hospitals who had been driven out of Serbia at the time of the great invasion had asked to be allowed to return to work for the Serbians, and we were now equipping fresh units, entirely staffed by women, to serve with the Serbian Army, besides having at the present time the medical care of six thousand Serbian refugees on the island of Corsica.

General Petain said smiling that before the war he had sometimes thought of women "as those who inspired the most beautiful ideas in men and prevented them from carrying them out," but the war, he added, had certainly proved conclusively the value of women's work.

M. Forain expressed the desire to visit the chief French Hospital of the Scottish Women at the Abbaye de Royaumont. The General laughingly told him, "You do not realise how stern and devoted to duty those ladies are. I wonder if you would be permitted to visit them?"

I consoled M. Forain by pointing out that surely as chief Camoufler (disguiser) of the French Army, he could disguise himself as a model of virtue (de se camoufler en bon garcon). Certainly this son of France, who has turned his brilliant intellect and his art to the saving of men's lives, would be welcome anywhere and everywhere. I hastened to assure him that I was only teasing him, and added that I only teased the people I admired and liked. General Petain immediately turned to the Commandant de Pulligny--"Please remark that she has not yet teased me." "Probably because she fears to do it, and has too much respect for you," replied the Commandant. "Fears! I do not think we need talk of that just now, when she dares to go to Verdun."