The Red Cross Girls in the British Trenches

by Margaret Vandercook

It was about seven o’clock in the morning ten days later.

Over green fields the sun was shining and the birds were singing in the tops of the tall chestnut trees which were now covered with fragrant blossoms. These trees stood close about an old mansion which was enclosed by a high stone wall with no opening save a tall iron gate connecting with the avenue that led in a straight line to the house. But although there was a small lodge beside it, the gate stood open.

The old stone house itself was strangely built. It had three towers, one taller than the rest, commanding a sweeping view of the country near by. At one side of the building an old stone cloister led to a small chapel a few hundred yards away. And this morning two girls were walking quietly up and down this cloister in uniforms not strikingly unlike those that used long ago to be worn by the young demoiselles of the ancient “Convent of the Sacred Heart” in northern France. But these two modern girls belonged to a newer and braver sisterhood, the order of the Red Cross.

They were Barbara Meade and Nona Davis, but their faces suggested that years, not days, must have passed over them. Their cheeks were white, their expressions strained. From Barbara’s eyes and mouth the suggestion of sudden, spontaneous laughter had disappeared. She looked a little sick and a little frightened.

Nona was different, although she suggested a piece of marble. The experiences of the past ten days had brought out the fighting qualities in this young southern girl. Her golden-brown eyes were steady, she carried her chin up and her shoulders straight. She looked the daughter of a soldier.

Now she put her arm across the smaller girl’s shoulder.

“Let us go for a walk,” she suggested. “No one in the hospital wants our services for a while and breakfast won’t be served for another hour. It will do you good to get away from the thought of suffering. We need not go far; besides, the country near here is entirely peaceful.”

Barbara said nothing in reply, but taking her consent for granted, the two girls left the cloister and went down the avenue to the open gate and so out into the countryside.

They did not seem to feel like talking a great deal; the endless chatter that had kept them busy during the trip across had died away. But the morning was lovely and the countryside so peaceful that the thought of the scene of battle not far off seemed almost incredible. They were in the midst of a meadow and orchard country of rolling level fields. Beyond them, however, was a line of hills and a forest. But there were no other large houses near, only some small cottages at the edges of the meadows. These belonged to the French peasants, and although the men were now in the trenches, still they appeared thrifty and well kept. For so far, though the enemy watched so near, this part of the country had escaped the actual warfare. The hospital was only a bare five miles from the British line of soldiers, yet was comparatively safe. And for this reason the famous old French school had been emptied of its pupils and turned over to the Red Cross.

As they left the big gate Nona glanced behind her. From the top of the tallest tower floated a white flag, the emblem of peace, and yet bearing upon it a cross of red, symbol of suffering. Then just for an instant the thought crossed her mind, Would this flag continue to protect them throughout the war?