Combed Out Part 13

Their turn came before long and I helped each one to get on to a table.

Then I went over to the Prep. to see if any more walking wounded had arrived, but there were none at all.

I stood out in the open for a few minutes in order to breathe the fresh air. There was a roar and rumble of distant drum-fire. The trees behind the C.C.S. stood out blackly against the pallid flashes that lit up the entire horizon.

The mortuary attendant came walking along the duckboards.

As he pa.s.sed by me he growled:

"There's a 'ell of a stunt on--there'll be umpteen slabs for the mortuary."

VI

AIR-RAIDS

It was a warm, sunny afternoon. About a dozen of us were pitching a marquee in leisurely fas.h.i.+on, when suddenly there was a shout of "Fritz up!"

We gazed at the sky, and, after searching for a while, saw a tiny white speck moving slowly across the blue at an immense height. Then, at some distance from it, a small white puff, like a little ball of cotton-wool, appeared. A few seconds pa.s.sed and we heard a faint pop. More puffs appeared around the moving speck, each one followed by a pop. All at once, behind us, a bright tongue of flame flashed out above a group of bushes. There was a sharp report and a whizzing, rustling noise that died down gradually. Then another puff and another pop. The bright flames flashed out again in rapid succession. The little speck moved on and on. Grouped closely round it were compact little b.a.l.l.s of cotton-wool, but trailing behind were thin wisps and semi-transparent whitish blurs. Above a belt of trees in the distance we observed a series of rapid flashes followed by an equal number of detonations. The upper air was filled with a blending of high notes--a whizzing, droning, and sibilant buzzing, and pipings that died down in faint wails. The little white speck moved on. It entered a film of straggling cloud, but soon re-emerged. It grew smaller and smaller. Our eyes lost it for a moment and found it again. Then they lost it altogether and nothing remained save the whitish blurs in the blue sky and a hardly audible booming in the far distance.

"I bet 'e's took some photographs--'e'll be over to-night. I reckon we're b.l.o.o.d.y lucky to be at a C.C.S."

"D'yer think 'e wouldn't bomb a C.C.S.?"

"Course 'e wouldn't--'e knows as well as what we do that there's some of 'is own wounded at C.C.S.'s."

"Yer've got some bleed'n' 'opes--do anythink, 'e would. Didn't yer see it in the papers? 'E bombed a French C.C.S. at Verd'n an' knocked out umpteen wounded."

"I bet that's all b.l.o.o.d.y lies--yer can't believe nothin' what's in the papers."

"Can't yer! If yer don't it's because yer don't want ter. I believe yer a bleed'n' Fritz yerself, always stickin' up fer the b.a.s.t.a.r.d. Everythink what's in the papers is true--the Government wouldn't allow it if it wasn't! That's got yer, ain't it?"

"Yer want ter look at it a bit more broad-minded. Course 'e makes mistakes sometimes like anybody else--'ow do 'e know it's a C.C.S.--'e can't see no Red Crorss at night?"

"Mistakes be blowed--'e knows what's what, you take my word for it ..."

We gathered idly round the disputants, glad of a distraction that would help to pa.s.s the time. A third person joined in the argument:

"If 'e bombs 'orspitals an' C.C.S.'s it's our own b.l.o.o.d.y fault. Look at our C.C.S. 'ere. There's a ordnance park and a R.E. dump up the road.

There's a railway in front an' a sidin' where troops is always detrainin'. Then there's a gas dump over yonder. An' if we're b.l.o.o.d.y fools an' leave the lights on at night, 'ow can 'e tell what's what when everything's mixed up together? Why the b.l.o.o.d.y 'ell don't they put C.C.S.'s away from dumps an' railways? Why don't they stick 'em right in the fields somewhere? I bet we'll cop it one o' these nights, an' serve us right too."

German aeroplanes had pa.s.sed overhead almost every clear windless night, but the buzz of propellers, that often went on for hours, and the dull boom of bombs exploding far away had never caused anything more than slight uneasiness and apprehension.

One night, after we had been at the C.C.S. for about a month, we heard the uproar of a distant air-raid. Early the next morning a number of motor-ambulances arrived with their loads of wounded men. A camp, a mile or two from the station, had been bombed and fifty men had been killed and many more wounded. One of the "cases" brought into the theatre had been hit on the forehead. The bomb-fragment had not penetrated the skull, but had pa.s.sed along its surface. The scalp hung over the forehead loosely like an enormous flap, the red, jagged edge nearly touching the eyebrows. Since then I thought of this man every time there was an air-raid.

The event increased our uneasiness. After each "bombing-stunt" we thought: "We were lucky this time--it will be our turn next though."

Moreover, we began to realize our helplessness. We were compelled to remain in our tents during a raid and there was no possibility of taking shelter. We could have put on our steel helmets--they would at least have afforded some head protection, but hardly any of us had the courage to do anything that might be regarded by the others as a sign of fear.

The discussion about the bombing of hospitals had made us all think of air-raids. We had nearly finished our day's work when we noticed a few clouds on the horizon. We felt relieved. Perhaps the sky would be overcast and we would have an undisturbed night.

"I can't stick night raids," said one of our number. "They don't put my wind up a bit, but they interfere with my sleep and make me feel tired in the mornings."

A man who had been in the war from the beginning answered:

"I can see you haven't been out here long, and have never been in a proper raid. I'll never forget the last time we were bombed. We were out on rest about fifteen miles behind the line. Fritz came over and I had the wind up so badly that I left the tent to go into the open fields.

(I'd had a taste of it before, you know, and that makes all the difference.) Then he bombed us before I knew where I was. I ran for my life. There was a h.e.l.l of a crash behind me and a bit caught me in the shoulder and knocked me down. When it was all over I got up and went back, although my shoulder hurt like anything. A lot of our fellows were running about and shouting. Where my tent used to be, there was a big bomb-hole and my mates were lying dead all round--fourteen of them. I didn't recognize most of them, they were so smashed up. Fritz had dropped one right on the tent. I reckon I was lucky to get off with a Blighty! I was in hospital six weeks and then I got ten days' sick leave in London. Fritz came over one night--Christ, I didn't half have the wind up! We were sitting in the kitchen, mother and father didn't seem to mind much--they didn't know what it meant. Fritz had never dropped any our way before. I never heard such a barrage, at least not for aeroplanes. It wasn't so bad as out here all the same--you could take shelter, anyhow. Air-raids are b.l.o.o.d.y awful things, they put my wind up much more than sh.e.l.l-fire."

We finished our work as the sun was setting. The clouds on the horizon had vanished. One by one the stars came out. It was "an ideal night for a raid."

Soon after dark a man was brought into the station with a crushed knee.

Immediate operation was necessary. He was carried into the theatre and laid on to one of the tables. He received an anaesthetic and became unconscious. With his scalpel the surgeon made a deep cut in the knee-joint and searched the cavity with his finger. There was a Sister standing by. Also an orderly who had won the Military Medal for bravery in an air-raid some months before. Suddenly there was an outburst of anti-aircraft firing and a tumultuous whistling of sh.e.l.ls overhead. It lasted for several seconds and then with a deafening, reverberating thunder-clap that shook the entire theatre, the first bomb fell. Before our ears had ceased drumming another bomb exploded and then another. The orderly, who had held his hands in front of his face, now gave way to fear. He darted madly to and fro and then scuttled beneath a table. The Sister, who had remained quite calm, said in an amused voice: "Pull yourself together, it's all over now." The orderly got up trembling, his face very white. The surgeon had not moved away. He had just grasped the edge of the table tightly and had bent his head forward, while his muscles seemed stiff with a violent but successful effort at self-control. The anaesthetist, too, had remained on his stool, but was leaning right over his patient. I had been conscious of a powerful impulse to duck down, but I grasped the table and gave way to the impulse so far as to lean slightly forward. This compromise saved me from any violent expression of fear. The Sister was the only one of us who showed no sign of fear at all.

The surgeon went on with his work and extracted several fragments of bone from the injured limb. A few seconds pa.s.sed and suddenly the electric light went out in accordance with the orders that decreed that all lights should be extinguished on the approach of hostile aeroplanes.

The surgeon cursed loudly and the Sister fetched an electric torch which she held over the knee. The operation continued, but it was not long before anti-aircraft fire broke out once more. Then there was a weird bustling, rus.h.i.+ng sound, followed by a roar that again shook the theatre and rattled the windows. Six explosions followed in rapid succession.

This time the orderly controlled himself, for he knew the Sister was watching. Nevertheless, his knees trembled violently. The Sister held the torch steadily and the surgeon paused for a moment and went on with the operation as soon as all was quiet.

In a few minutes it was finished. The wound was dressed and bandaged and the patient carried away.

I stepped out into the clear night. The sky was thronged with glittering stars. Everything seemed strangely peaceful. I walked round the station, trying to find out where the bombs had fallen, but n.o.body knew. I went to the marquee and found Private Trotter sitting there, breathless and white. The neighbouring C.C.S. a few hundred yards away had been hit. A Sister and an orderly had been killed and several patients wounded.

"It didn't 'alf put me wind up," said Trotter, excitedly. "When the first'n drops I lays down flat on the duckboards and one bursts just aside o' me an' smothers me with earth. Then another'n bursts an' I 'ears a man 'oller out--krikey, 'e didn't 'alf scream. I gets up and another'n bursts, so I flops down agin, but it didn't come so near that time. I waits a bit an' then I gets up an' goes to see what they done. I couldn't see nothin' at first, but I sees some fellers runnin' about wi'

lights. There was a noise in one o' the wards, so I goes in. A bomb must 'a' burst on the roof--there was a big 'ole in the canvas. The bed underneath was all twisted an' torn, but there wasn't n.o.body in it.

There was some wounded lyin' in beds at the fur end of the ward, an' one of 'em was cryin' somethin' chronic. Then someone brings a light an' I sees an orderly lyin' by the side o' the bed with a big 'ole in 'is face an' the blood pourin' out. I goes roun' to the other side--gorblimy--an'

there I sees the Sister lyin' on the floor with 'er 'ead blown clean off--I dunno where it was blown to, I couldn't see it nowhere. Krikey, it wasn't 'alf a sight to see 'er body without a 'ead lyin' in a pool o'

blood. It made me feel sick, so I ran orf an' came 'ere."

Private Trotter was trembling in every limb. He was the pluckiest man I ever knew and capable of any piece of foolhardy daring. But this time he was near a nervous breakdown.

We went to bed full of anxiety. For a long while we lay awake, straining our ears to catch the sound of firing or the drone of German propellers.

But no sound broke the stillness of the night, and one by one we dropped off to sleep.

The next morning was clear and sunny. The sky remained blue all day. Not a cloud could be seen. "Our turn next"--that was the thought in everybody's mind.

The evening was starlit once again. As we lay on the floor of the marquee, wrapped up in our blankets, we heard the sound of bombing and firing in the distance.

Clear days and clear nights followed each other. Sometimes a train would stop in front of the C.C.S., hissing and puffing, and throwing up a great shaft of light. We would curse it, fearing that it would attract German raiders.

If only the fine weather would come to an end! Give us wind and rain so that we could lie in bed without being oppressed by anxiety! But the sun continued to s.h.i.+ne and the stars to glitter.

The disaster that had befallen the adjoining C.C.S., which had been brilliantly lit up during the raid, had acted as a warning example to us. At nightfall the windows of the theatre were screened with blankets and no lights were allowed to show in the wards or on the duckboards.

If only the trains would halt somewhere else at night-time!

One day a number of Flemish peasants began to collect hop-refuse in the surrounding fields. They made three great heaps of it and set fire to them. In the evening the heaps were burning brightly, but no one took any notice.

The canteen was crowded. All the benches were occupied and men who were unable to find seats stood around in groups. There was noisy conversation and singing and shouting. Nearly everyone was drinking beer. Those who sat at the tables were playing cards. The air was thick with tobacco-smoke. Two or three candles were burning on every table.