Part 10 (2/2)
Prospects of wounded arriving seemed nil, and permission was given for a fancy-dress tea party to celebrate the double event. It must be here understood that whether work came in or not we all had to remain on duty in camp till five every day, in case of the sudden arrival of ambulance trains, etc. After that hour, two of us were detailed to be on evening duty till nine, while all night duty was similarly taken in turns.
Usually, after hanging about all day till five, a train or barges would be announced, and we were lucky if we got into bed this side of 12.
Hardly what you might call a ”six-hour day,” and yet n.o.body went on strike.
The one in question was fine and cloudless, and birthday wishes in the shape of a Taube raid were expressed by the Boche, who apparently keeps himself informed on all topics.
The fancy dresses (considering what little scope we had and that no one even left camp to buy extras in the town) were many and varied. ”Squig”
and de Wend were excellent as bookies, in perfectly good toppers made out of stiff white paper with deep black ribbon bands and ”THE OLD FIRM” painted in large type on cards. Jockeys, squaws, yokels, etc., all appeared mysteriously from nothing. I was princ.i.p.ally draped in my Reckitts blue upholsterings and a brilliant Scherezade kimono, bought in a moment of extravagance in Paris.
The proceedings after tea, when the cooks excelled themselves making an enormous birthday cake, consisted of progressive games of sorts. You know the kind of thing, trying to pick up ten needles with a pin (or is it two?) and doing a Pelman memory stunt after seeing fifty objects on a tray, and other intellectual pursuits of that description. Another stunt was putting a name to different liquids which you smelt blindfold. This was the only cla.s.s in which I got placed. I was the only one apparently who knew the difference between whisky and brandy! Funnily enough, would you believe it, it was the petrol that floored me. Considering we wallowed in it from morning till night it was rather strange. I was nearly spun altogether when it came to the game of Bridge in the telephone room. ”I've never played it in my life,” I said desperately.
”Never mind,” said someone jokingly, ”just take a hand.” I took the tip seriously and did so, looking at my cards as gravely as a judge--finally I selected one and threw it down. To my relief no one screamed or denounced me and I breathed again. (It requires some skill to play a game of Bridge when you know absolutely nothing about it.)
”Pity you lost that last trick,” said my partner to me as we left the room; ”it was absolutely in your hand.”
”Was it?” I asked innocently.
We had a rush of work after this, and wounded again began to pour in from the Third Battle of Ypres.
Early evacuations came regularly with the tides. They would begin at 4 a.m. and get half an hour later each day. When we took ”sitters” (i.e.
sitting patients with ”Blighty” wounds), one generally came in front and sat beside the driver, and on the way to the Hospital s.h.i.+ps we sometimes learnt a lot about them. I had a boy of sixteen one day, a bright cheery soul. ”How did you get in?” (meaning into the army), I asked. ”Oh, well, Miss, it was like this, I was afraid it would be over before I was old enough, so I said I was eighteen. The recruiting bloke winked and so did I, and I was through.” Another, when asked about his wound, said, ”It's going on fine now, Sister (they always called us Sister), but I lost me conscience for two days up the line with it.”
We had a bunch of Canadians to take one day. ”D'you come from Suss.e.x?”
asked one, of me. ”No,” I replied, ”from c.u.mberland.” ”That's funny,” he said, ”the V.A.D. who looked after me came from Suss.e.x, and she had the same accent as you, I guess!” Another man had not been home for five years, but had joined up in Canada and come straight over. A Scotsman had not been home for twenty, and he intended to see his ”folks” and come out again as soon as he was pa.s.sed fit by the doctors.
One fine morning at 5 a.m. we were awakened by a fearful din, much worse than the usual thing. The huts trembled and our beds shook beneath us, not to mention the very nails falling out of the walls! We wondered at first if it was a fleet of Zepps. dropping super-bombs, but decided it was too light for them to appear at that hour.
There it was again, as if the very earth was being cleft in two, and our windows rattled in their sockets. It is not a pleasant sensation to have steady old Mother Earth rocking like an ”ashpan” leaf beneath your feet.
We dressed hurriedly, knowing that the cars might be called on to go out at any moment.
What the disaster was we could not fathom, but that it was some distance away we had no doubt.
At 7 a.m. the telephone rang furiously, and we all waited breathless for the news.
Ten cars were ordered immediately to Audricq, where a large ammunition dump had been set on fire by a Boche airman.
Heavy explosions continued at intervals all the morning as one shed after another became affected.
When our cars got there the whole dump was one seething ma.s.s of smoke and flames, and sh.e.l.ls of every description were hurtling through the air at short intervals. Several of these narrowly missed the cars. It was a new experience to be under fire from our own sh.e.l.ls. The roads were littered with live ones, and with great difficulty the wheels of the cars were steered clear of them!
Many sh.e.l.ls were subsequently found at a distance of five miles, and one buried itself in a peaceful garden ten miles off!
A thousand 9.2's had gone off simultaneously and made a crater big enough to bury a village in. It was this explosion that had shaken our huts miles away. The neighbouring village fell flat like a pack of cards at the concussion, the inhabitants having luckily taken to the open fields at the first intimation that the dump was on fire.
The total casualties were only five in number, which was almost incredible in view of the many thousands of men employed. It was due to the presence of mind of the Camp Commandant that there were not more; for, once he realized the hopeless task of getting the fire under control, he gave orders to the men to clear as fast as they could. They needed no second bidding and made for the nearest _Estaminets_ with speed! The F.A.N.Y.s found that instead of carrying wounded, their task was to search the countryside (with Sergeants on the box) and bring the men to a camp near ours. ”Dead?” asked someone, eyeing the four motionless figures inside one of the ambulances. ”Yes,” replied the F.A.N.Y. cheerfully--”drunk!”
The Boche had flown over at 3 a.m. but so low down the Archies were powerless to get him. As one of the men said to me, ”If we'd had rifles, Miss, we could have potted him easy.”
He flew from shed to shed dropping incendiary bombs on the roofs as he pa.s.sed, and up they went like fireworks. The only satisfaction we had was to hear that he had been brought down on his way back over our lines, so the Boche never heard of the disaster he had caused.
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