âsonny,â and it was not only the five âWoodbinesâ that made them glad to see her. With their departure Everitt dozed and waked and dozed again. At last a jerk told him that the train had started, and that Jerry had once again been cheated.
The nightâs journey was a nightmare. At the time Everitt was perhaps too tired to think about what he saw, just as, in the line, the need for violent action between bouts of bemused exhaustion had drugged his brain to numbness. But afterwards every detail grew vivid to memory. At home in England he would go over the whole journey again from Les BÅufs to Rouen, visualizing every detail, trembling and growing sick with horror at these vivid night-thoughts, shaking with panic to think of dangers that were passed.
The train took thirty hours to reach Rouen â from midnight on Tuesday to the early hours of Thursday morning, and they had been eight hours in their cots before it started. Everitt passed the time in broken dozes, which at first seemed to refresh him, but afterwards served only to exasperate him by their brevity. Several times during the night a doctor or a Sister visited them, asked in a whisper if all were well, and passed on noiselessly. Some of the men near him were desperately injured. The tattered thing in the cot opposite on the lowest tier was bandaged from neck to waist, and lay there hour after hour groaning through set teeth, too ill to move so much as a finger. Only the most desperately urgent operations could be attempted in a moving train, and all they could do for him was to inject morphia and sponge his face and lips. Another man was mangled so ruthlessly with shrapnel in the back and buttocks that he could find no position of comfort. Howsoever he tossed and shifted, he could not relieve the pressure on the wounds â great raw surfaces as though he had been flayed.
All the night long the orderlies were busy bringing draughts of water to burning throats, changing bandages when necessary, talking to those whom pain made garrulous. The grotesque horrors of the night made Everitt sick to see; the Sisters and orderlies performed for helpless men the vilest offices. And always the train was rumbling through the darkness, while the cots swayed and rocked, and men grew light-headed with pain and fever.
As far as Amiens the line was blocked with every kind of traffic â fodder for the Push in the shape of men, horses, guns and stores. On their journey southwards Everitt had been astonished by the volume of the traffic behind the rail-heads, and had counted the ambulance-trains with something like personal dismay. Thus the present delay was readily explicable.
The grey morning found them still jogging towards the north-west. The day was passed principally in waiting for meals. The kitchen, for convenienceâs sake in respect of water, lay immediately behind the engine, and the orderlies must utilize the frequent halts for the carrying of the pails of tea and porridge and trays of bread and bacon along the track from coach to coach. Thus much of the food was cold by the time it reached its destination.
There were no platforms between the coaches, and doctors and Sisters alike swung themselves from one to another by means of the stanchions beside the doors. Only thus had they been able to follow their night-rounds. Everitt, of course, had seen nothing of this, and now only learned it from the friendly orderly together with other vivid details of what he called a dogâs life. The gymnastics involved in rushing up and down the track beside the slowly moving train and in swinging the heavy pails to and from the coaches were alone almost enough to tire a man at the end of a day. Add to this the vile duties of the sick bays, and it was clear that even the Red Cross behind the line had its strenuous moments. Their rest, it seemed, came on the return journey to the clearing-station, but before they could âget down to it,â it
The nightâs journey was a nightmare. At the time Everitt was perhaps too tired to think about what he saw, just as, in the line, the need for violent action between bouts of bemused exhaustion had drugged his brain to numbness. But afterwards every detail grew vivid to memory. At home in England he would go over the whole journey again from Les BÅufs to Rouen, visualizing every detail, trembling and growing sick with horror at these vivid night-thoughts, shaking with panic to think of dangers that were passed.
The train took thirty hours to reach Rouen â from midnight on Tuesday to the early hours of Thursday morning, and they had been eight hours in their cots before it started. Everitt passed the time in broken dozes, which at first seemed to refresh him, but afterwards served only to exasperate him by their brevity. Several times during the night a doctor or a Sister visited them, asked in a whisper if all were well, and passed on noiselessly. Some of the men near him were desperately injured. The tattered thing in the cot opposite on the lowest tier was bandaged from neck to waist, and lay there hour after hour groaning through set teeth, too ill to move so much as a finger. Only the most desperately urgent operations could be attempted in a moving train, and all they could do for him was to inject morphia and sponge his face and lips. Another man was mangled so ruthlessly with shrapnel in the back and buttocks that he could find no position of comfort. Howsoever he tossed and shifted, he could not relieve the pressure on the wounds â great raw surfaces as though he had been flayed.
All the night long the orderlies were busy bringing draughts of water to burning throats, changing bandages when necessary, talking to those whom pain made garrulous. The grotesque horrors of the night made Everitt sick to see; the Sisters and orderlies performed for helpless men the vilest offices. And always the train was rumbling through the darkness, while the cots swayed and rocked, and men grew light-headed with pain and fever.
As far as Amiens the line was blocked with every kind of traffic â fodder for the Push in the shape of men, horses, guns and stores. On their journey southwards Everitt had been astonished by the volume of the traffic behind the rail-heads, and had counted the ambulance-trains with something like personal dismay. Thus the present delay was readily explicable.
The grey morning found them still jogging towards the north-west. The day was passed principally in waiting for meals. The kitchen, for convenienceâs sake in respect of water, lay immediately behind the engine, and the orderlies must utilize the frequent halts for the carrying of the pails of tea and porridge and trays of bread and bacon along the track from coach to coach. Thus much of the food was cold by the time it reached its destination.
There were no platforms between the coaches, and doctors and Sisters alike swung themselves from one to another by means of the stanchions beside the doors. Only thus had they been able to follow their night-rounds. Everitt, of course, had seen nothing of this, and now only learned it from the friendly orderly together with other vivid details of what he called a dogâs life. The gymnastics involved in rushing up and down the track beside the slowly moving train and in swinging the heavy pails to and from the coaches were alone almost enough to tire a man at the end of a day. Add to this the vile duties of the sick bays, and it was clear that even the Red Cross behind the line had its strenuous moments. Their rest, it seemed, came on the return journey to the clearing-station, but before they could âget down to it,â it
Similar Books
