The Red Cross Girls in the British Trenches

by Margaret Vandercook

Almost without regarding him Nona allowed him to help her into the saddle. Then they set off across country together, the young lieutenant a little in the lead. The secret of an officer’s headquarters is sometimes so carefully guarded that not even his own soldiers know its exact location.

Nona was not even particularly interested. She realized that she rode about three-quarters of a mile and then stopped in front of what appeared like an immense pile of brushwood. Behind it was a small wooden building, evidently a temporary structure, and inside the building, seated before a small pine table with a telephone receiver in his hand, was Colonel Dalton.

Here at last Nona became vitally interested. She had been told that innumerable telephone wires, most of them underground, connected the British officer’s quarters with the trenches at the front as well as with the headquarters of other officers and with the different positions of the field artillery. Here was certain proof of it. The officers with the men in the trenches must take their commands from their superiors who were in truth the “gods behind the machines.”

The lieutenant saluted. Colonel Dalton returned the salute curtly. Nona simply waited and watched.

By and by Colonel Dalton put down the telephone receiver.

“Be seated,” he said briefly, and Nona sat down on a wooden stool the younger officer thrust toward her. She had no special sensation of awe; she was seldom afraid of people except in social life. This was simply a part of her day’s work. Nevertheless she wondered why Colonel Dalton was frowning at her so severely.

The same instant he took a bundle of papers from inside his pocket.

“Sorry to trouble you with this, Miss Davis, but for the present you seem the best person to get hold of. I remember our talk at the hospital, and moreover, I’ve the impression you can answer questions and keep your own counsel when it’s necessary. There is some ugly work going on at the Sacred Heart Hospital. I’ve reason to believe that there is a spy among the workers over there. Is there any one you can think of who might be willing to give news of the British positions, the amount of our ammunition and other facts to the enemy? Think this over quietly and coolly. I promise you that no one will be held responsible whose guilt is not plainly proved and also that whatever you are willing to tell me will be kept in strictest confidence.”

“But why do you think such a thing? How can you possibly imagine?” Nona faltered, and then appreciated that this was not the manner in which to address an officer. Colonel Dalton would not make such an accusation without due proof of his suspicion.

Nona had a dreadful sensation of horror and confusion. Surely Colonel Dalton must be mistaken. Never were there a more devoted, more sincere group of workers than the Red Cross nurses and physicians at the Sacred Heart Hospital. That treason could dwell among them was out of the question. Yet all the while the American girl was voicing this silent protest in her own heart, automatically she was reviewing the name and character of every member of their staff. There was no one, no one, who could not be wholly trusted, whose family and whose history were not open books.