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WITH A FIELD AMBULANCE AT YPRES 
 
 I 
 
THE CLOTH HALL, YPRES 
 
WITH A 
 
 FIELD AMBULANCE 
 
 AT YPRES 
 
 BEING LETTERS WRITTEN 
 MARCH 7 — ^AUGUST 1 5, I915 
 
 BY 
 
 William Boyd 
 
 PROFESSOR OF PATHOLOGY^ UNIVERSITY OF 
 MANITOBA 
 
 ILLUSTRATED 
 
 NEW YORK 
 GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY 
 

 COPYRIGHT, 1916, 
 BY GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY 
 
 NOV -21s 16 
 
 PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA 
 
 'GI.A445451 
 
TO 
 
 THE DEAR MEMORY 
 
 OF 
 
 MY MOTHER 
 
PREFACE 
 
 The present volume does not pretend to 
 be a book. It is a diary, written in the 
 kitchens of French farmhouses, in muddy 
 dug-outs, and other unromantic places, 
 and sent home to friends from time to 
 time. ^ In most cases the account was writ- 
 ten within twenty-four hours of the events 
 described. 
 
 Its sole justification is that it is a rec- 
 ord of facts, experiences, and emotions, be- 
 fore the facts had become tinged with fic- 
 tion, the experiences had lost their orig- 
 inal sharpness, and the emotions had been 
 erased by the moving finger of time. 
 
 William Boyd. 
 
 Winnipeg, 
 August^ igi6. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 
 
 PAGE 
 
 I. 
 
 Up to the Firing Line . . 
 
 15 
 
 II. 
 
 Behind Neuve Chapelle . 
 
 22 
 
 III. 
 
 Initiation 
 
 31 
 
 IV. 
 
 A Midnight Visitor . . . 
 
 43 
 
 V. 
 
 A Day with the Gunners . 
 
 51 
 
 VI. 
 
 Gas 
 
 60 
 
 VII. 
 
 In the Field Again . . . 
 
 68 
 
 VIII. 
 
 The Burning of Ypres . . 
 
 78 
 
 IX. 
 
 A City of the Dead . . . 
 
 82 
 
 X. 
 
 Warm Nights Round Hell 
 
 
 
 Corner 
 
 . 90 
 
 XL 
 
 A Dinner in Goggles . . 
 
 lOI 
 
 XII. 
 
 Last Days at the Front . 
 
 104 
 
ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 The Cloth Hall, Ypres . . Frontispiece --' 
 
 PAGE 
 
 A DuG-OuT 52v^ 
 
 Canadl^ns Suffering from Gas Poison- 
 ing 66, 
 
 The City of the Dead 84 ^^ 
 
 The Chancel, Ypres Cathedral . . 88, 
 
 A Soldier's Cemetery 106 ' 
 
WITH A FIELD AMBULANCE AT YPRES 
 
"And every mound of Flemish earth 
 Shall witness bear, as men go by, 
 That greater things than Life and Death 
 Are Truth and Right, which cannot die." 
 
WITH A FIELD 
 AMBULANCE AT YPRES 
 
 UP TO THE FIRING LINE 
 
 March 7, IQ15. 
 At 8.30 last night the transport which 
 carried our Field Ambulance cast off its 
 moorings and slowly swung away from 
 the land. It was an impressive sight. 
 The sides of the ship were lined by men 
 gazing in silence at the land that many 
 of them were never to see again, the boats 
 were swung out ready to be lowered at 
 a moment's notice, sentries with loaded 
 rifles and fixed bayonets kept guard over 
 the bridge, the poop, and the stern where 
 the life belts were stored, and on the deck 
 stood great rafts with twenty handles on 
 each side which would float off if the ship 
 were torpedoed. Gradually we gathered 
 way and soon the tugs were cast off, and 
 we glided out into the darkness of the 
 
 [15] 
 
With a Field Ambulance at Ypres 
 
 night. For about half an hour we pro- 
 ceeded thus. Then suddenly from my 
 post on the lower bridge I became aware 
 of a long, lean, dark, venomous-looking 
 shape on the starboard bow, and a com- 
 manding voice hailed us through a mega- 
 phone: "There is a light showing at one 
 of your ports — put it out, and don't let 
 your speed drop below fourteen knots. '^ 
 It was our escort. A light twinkled at the 
 masthead of the dark shape, which was 
 at once answered by a corresponding light 
 on our port side, and the two destroyers 
 swung round and began to slide through 
 the water, one on either side of us. 
 
 Soon we became aware of a great beam 
 of light stretching right across the chan- 
 nel, a beam through which every boat had 
 to pass. And now searchhght after 
 searchlight came into view, sweeping to 
 and fro on the face of the waters, and 
 lighting up the whole channel like a vast 
 ballroom. Suddenly one of the beams 
 fastened on to us, the whole ship became 
 a blaze of light, and we could see^ our 
 low-lying, sinister-looking escort on either 
 side. We signalled to the fort and were 
 allowed to proceed on our way. 
 
 For long I watched that wonderful dis- 
 [i6] 
 
With a Field Ambulance at Ypres 
 
 play of illumination and when at last I 
 turned round I found that we had left 
 land behind, and were in the open Chan- 
 nel. Looking over the side, one could 
 not help wondering if the unseen enemy 
 was lurking in those dark depths, but all 
 went well, until all at once a dim form 
 loomed up right in front of us, and a hur- 
 ried hail, "What ship is that, and where 
 the hell are you going?" came from a col- 
 lier which we had nearly run down. Of 
 course we were travelling with all lights 
 out. Just as the grey dawn was begin- 
 ning to break over the grey sea, our two 
 destroyers suddenly swung round as if op- 
 erated by a single lever and disappeared 
 in the sea fog, and as the light brightened 
 we found that we had reached our desti- 
 nation, for in front of us lay the Coast of 
 France. 
 
 March 9, 1915, 
 
 Two days ago we arrived at our base, 
 and spent the whole day getting the ship 
 unloaded. The unloading was not fin- 
 ished till 7.30 P.M., at which hour we got 
 an order to march the men to a certain 
 ralhvay shed, where they were to spend 
 the night. After some delay we got all 
 the men together in the dark, and with a 
 
 [17] 
 
With a Field Ambulance at Ypres 
 
 guide at the head of the party started off 
 for the shed. We marched through end- 
 less docks, and at last arrived at the 
 longed-for shed, which we found to be 
 filled with about a thousand artillery- 
 horses. There was nothing for it but to 
 look about for some other shelter. We 
 found a tiny shed, into which we just man- 
 aged to squeeze all the men; and as they 
 had straw, a blanket each, and their furry 
 coats they were able to make themselves 
 fairly comfortable. The officers, how- 
 ever, had to be content with the cobbles 
 outside; and a somewhat hard and chilly 
 bed they made in the biting north wind 
 which blew strongly from the sea. 
 
 Early next morning we entrained. Our 
 ?rain was the biggest thing in trains I have 
 ever sat eyes on, and must have been 
 nearly a quarter of a mile in length. The 
 horses and men travelled in trucks, eight 
 horses and thirty men to a truck; and very 
 funny the men looked, clad in their furry 
 coats, peering over the sides of the trucks 
 like some newly discovered species of wild 
 animal. The officers travelled in comfort 
 in first- and second-class carriages, and 
 slept in a truck the floor of which was 
 covered with straw. 
 [i8] 
 
With a Field Ambulance at Ypres 
 
 The last arrangements were completed, 
 and the long train steamed slowly out of 
 the station. Much of the country we 
 passed through was very charming and 
 pastoral, with primrose-covered banks 
 and larch buds already beginning to open, 
 children waving their hands to us, and the 
 bells ringing for church — it was Sunday 
 morning — but when you put your head 
 out of the window you could not help 
 remembering that the line which wound 
 away into the distance stretched right up 
 to Railhead, and at Railhead there awaited 
 work for us to do. All that day we trav- 
 elled at a rate of from ten to twenty miles 
 an hour, with an occasional halt for a few 
 minutes at a station to coal up or take in 
 water. As we got nearer to the front we 
 jogged over country as flat as Holland, in- 
 tersected with canals, and studded with 
 windmills, the real Low Country of 
 French Flanders. 
 
 We detrained at the little town of 
 Cassel, and proceeded to march along a 
 ridge on the other side of which the coun- 
 try was as flat as a pancake as far as the 
 eye could reach, and over which was 
 blowing an icy north-east blast, which must 
 
 [19] 
 
With a Field Ambulance at Ypres 
 
 have come straight from the Steppes of 
 Russia. It was a journey full of fasci- 
 nation for newcomers, for Ypres was only- 
 twenty miles, and the firing line fifteen 
 miles away, and somewhere in that low- 
 ly'mg land were the German trenches. 
 Every now and then we could hear a great 
 ''boom" coming from that mysterious 
 tract of country, and soon we espied an 
 aeroplane away up in the grey sky com- 
 ing to have a look at us. One feature 
 of the country is the little sentry-boxes at 
 the cross-roads, each covered with straw 
 so as to be invisible to aircraft and con- 
 taining a French soldier and perhaps a 
 black-robed cure. All day long the sound 
 of guns was in our ears, and now and 
 then an aeroplane would drone by over- 
 head. More and more houses showed 
 gaping shell holes in the roof and crum- 
 bling walls; here and there were little 
 wayside graves bearing the names of 
 English officers, and one tavern bore 
 the strange legend: "Aux annees terribles 
 1 9 14-19 1 5." Darkness came on and still 
 we marched along. At length, shortly 
 after ten o'clock, we reached a couple 
 of farm houses which had been assigned 
 
 [20] 
 
With a Field Ambulance at Ypres 
 
 us as billets, and very glad we were to 
 stretch our wearied limbs on the straw, 
 for the pave roads of Northern France 
 are hardly ideal for marching. 
 
 [21] 
 
II 
 
 BEHIND NEUVE CHAPELLE 
 
 March 12, igis. 
 A WONDERFULLY interesting day. We 
 are billeted at a farm about three miles 
 from Neuve Chapelle, where very heavy 
 fighting is in progress, and this morning 
 I had to ride into the little town which 
 is at present the Divisional Headquarters 
 of the Canadians. I found the streets 
 blocked with every variety of vehicle, the 
 most numerous being the A. S. C. wagons 
 of the Canadians. In the centre of the 
 town is a cross-roads, at which were sta- 
 tioned two of the military police, and 
 they certainly had their hands full. It 
 was like a bit of Piccadilly or the Strand. 
 There were ammunition wagons, A. S. C. 
 wagons, guns drawn by mules, motor am- 
 bulances, staff officers in big cars, order- 
 lies on motor bicycles, and all the rag-tag 
 and bobtail on horses of all sizes and 
 colours. 
 [22] 
 
With a Field Ambulance at Ypres 
 
 From there I rode on to the little town 
 of Estaires, where I found several great 
 gaps in the church roof, as the Germans 
 had been shelling it during the night. No 
 sooner had I entered the place than I saw 
 that something was afoot, for every one 
 was running towards the market place. 
 When I arrived there I was just in time 
 to see a great spectacle. The square was 
 lined with French soldiers in their pic- 
 turesque blue tunics and red breeches, with 
 fixed bayonets; here and there were Brit- 
 ish staff officers; on the balconies and at 
 the windows there was a sea of faces; 
 while over everything there hung a gen- 
 eral air of expectation. Suddenly, away 
 in the distance, could be heard the sound 
 of marching feet, and as the sound grew 
 nearer a great hush fell upon the waiting 
 multitude, till round the corner of the 
 square came a column of men, bedraggled, 
 covered with mud from head to foot, many 
 of them wounded with heads swathed in 
 bloody bandages and arms suspended in 
 slings; some dejected, others apathetic, but 
 all utterly weary with the weariness of 
 defeat. It was a column of four hundred 
 German prisoners, captured that morning 
 at Neuve Chapelle. On each side marched 
 
 [23] 
 
With a Field Ambulance at Ypres 
 
 the British escort, also mudstained and 
 weary, but plainly the conquerors. It was 
 a sight to stir the imagination. But the 
 populace behaved splendidly. Not a mur- 
 mur or groan was to be heard from those 
 French people, who had cause to hate the 
 name of German more bitterly than any- 
 thing else on earth. The moment the 
 prisoners had passed a magnificent pro- 
 cession of British lancers clattered up the 
 street on their way to Neuve Chapelle. 
 There were six or seven hundred of them, 
 with maxims in the rear, and the contrast 
 to the jaded Germans was dramatic in the 
 extreme. I rode in the rear of the lancers, 
 and soon we met horse-ambulances filled 
 with wounded Indians, then a small body 
 of Highlanders, then some French cav- 
 alry, then a battery of Canadian field ar- 
 tillery. Truly life is not dull at present. 
 
 March 13, 1913. 
 The lancers and artillery riding out to 
 the firing line is one side of war. To-day 
 I have seen the other side, for I have 
 spent the greater part of the day at a 
 dressing-station attending to the wounded 
 who were being brought in straight from 
 the trenches. The fighting at Neuve Cha- 
 
 [24] 
 
With a Field Ambulance at Ypres 
 
 pelle has, of course, been desperate in 
 the extreme, and during the last three days 
 an incessant stream of wounded has been 
 pouring through this dressing-station. 
 Several of our officers have, therefore, 
 been detailed to assist the ambulance peo- 
 ple who were ready to drop in their places 
 from utter exhaustion, and we started on 
 our duties this morning. 
 
 The whole training of a medical man 
 tends to inure him to unpleasant sights and 
 smells, but I must confess that we needed 
 all our training this morning. The dress- 
 ing-station was formerly a school, and 
 every room was so packed with wounded, 
 lying on stretchers on the floor, that it was 
 with the greatest difficulty that we could 
 move about. It was literally almost im- 
 possible to put your foot down without 
 treading on a wounded man. The condi- 
 tion of the wounds was indescribable, for 
 many of them were two days old, and 
 during that time the wounded men had 
 simply lain out on the battlefield, the furi- 
 ous fighting rendering the evacuation of 
 casualties an impossibility. In this coun- 
 try of heavily-manured soil every wound 
 becomes septic at once, and unless treated 
 thoroughly it soon swarms with the mi- 
 
 [25] 
 
With a Field Ambulance at Ypres 
 
 crobes of putrefaction. You may imagine 
 what the condition of these great gaping 
 cavities was at the end of forty-eight 
 hours. There were all sorts and condi- 
 tions of wounded, from a Colonel of the 
 Guards, who died shortly after admission, 
 to English, Scotch, Indian, and even Ger- 
 man privates. One poor Scotch laddie, 
 whose bowels were hanging outside his 
 abdomen, told me that he came from Fife. 
 It was quite like a message from home to 
 hear the broad, kindly Scot's tongue 
 again. "I've an awfu' sair belly, doctor," 
 was the only complaint the poor boy made. 
 The general behaviour of the men was 
 superb ; not a cry and hardly a groan was 
 to be heard, while lumps of shrapnel and 
 and jagged pieces of shell were being ex- 
 tracted from deep down in the muscles. In 
 some instances the men appeared to be 
 partly anaesthetised by the extreme fatigue 
 from which they suffered — a merciful dis- 
 pensation. The head Injuries were the 
 most frightful, for in some cases the 
 greater part of the face was smashed in 
 by shrapnel, while in others the nose, eye, 
 and greater part of the cheek had been 
 torn away, leaving a great, red, bleeding 
 cavity. 
 [26] 
 
With a Field Ambulance at Ypres 
 
 But enough of horrors. As I rode back 
 to our billet, I noticed that the blackthorn 
 twigs are already beginning to show white 
 — the first touch of spring is in this bleak 
 land. 
 
 March 14, 19 15. 
 A lovely, peaceful Sunday morning, 
 mild, balmy, brilliant sunshine, larks sing- 
 ing, spring in the air, but always the boom 
 of the big guns. I have been basking in 
 the sun In front of our farm reading "The 
 Private Papers of Henry Ryecroft," very 
 dehghtful, style perfect. On one page 
 there Is a drade against conscription, and 
 indeed mlHtary service of all kinds, de- 
 scribing the drill as degrading and debas- 
 ing — rather amusing reading just now 
 when we have had such abundant proof 
 that the opposite is the case. The only 
 book of my own which I carry is a copy 
 of selections from Browning; it is like 
 having an old friend with me. We had 
 church parade this morning to the accom- 
 paniment of the noise of guns and the 
 drone of aeroplanes. No doubt we shall 
 get accustomed to these contrasts when 
 we have been here some time, but at first 
 they strike one very vividly. 
 
 [27] 
 
With a Field Ambulance at Ypres 
 
 March 17, 1915. 
 
 Yesterday the brigade moved to a new 
 area, and we with them. We are now quite 
 close to the Belgian Frontier, and I hope 
 we shall cross it one of these days. I 
 
 share a tent with H . It is curious 
 
 to lie In the quiet of the night, and sud- 
 denly to hear the rattle of machine guns 
 or volley upon volley of rifle firing; on 
 looking out of the door you see star-lights 
 lighting up the sky, and shells bursting on 
 the plain below, for our camp is pitched 
 on a slight slope which counts as a moun- 
 tain in this country of dead flatness. 
 
 Yesterday's march was quite a strenu- 
 ous one. An army on the march Is the 
 queerest sight in the world. You imag- 
 ine great rows of men in neat uni- 
 forms swinging along to the sound 
 of the band. Nothing could be fur- 
 ther from the truth ! As you see the 
 column winding away In front of you (and 
 you may see it for a couple of miles in this 
 flat land), It looks like an Immense tink- 
 ers' encampment on the move, for the 
 greater part of the column consists of 
 wagons — baggage wagons — ammunition 
 limbers, horse ambulances, motor ambu- 
 lances, water carts, camp cookers busy 
 [28] 
 
With a Field Ambulance at Ypres 
 
 preparing a meal for the men at the end 
 of the march, mules laden with entrench- 
 ing tools, etc., etc. The men also are 
 hung around with haversacks, mess tins, 
 water bottles, ground sheets, etc., till they 
 look like veritable bagmen. An officer's 
 rig-out consists of a Sam-Browne belt, one 
 or two haversacks, water bottle, field 
 glasses, compass, map case, revolver, car- 
 tridge pouch, and anything else he likes to 
 stick on. When the whole procession is 
 on the move it is really a great sight. 
 
 March 21, 1915. 
 Yesterday we marched to Armentieres 
 for a few days of instruction in field work. 
 We followed one of the Routes Nation- 
 ales, a great highway stretching In an al- 
 most straight line for miles, with tall 
 poplars on either side all the way, and 
 not even a hillock on which to rest the 
 eye. It is In Tristram Shandy, I think, 
 that we are told that "the army In Flan- 
 ders swore horribly." If the roads then 
 were anything like what they are now I 
 think that the profanity ought to be par- 
 doned, for the pave certainly is abom- 
 inable stuf^ to march on, and at the end 
 
 [29] 
 
With a Field Ambulance at Ypres 
 
 of the day your feet are very sore and 
 wearied indeed. 
 
 To-day a party of us visited the Divi- 
 sional Clearing Station, where the men of 
 the — th Division are bathed, have their 
 clothes thoroughly washed and disinfected, 
 and are given a completely fresh outfit — 
 tunic, trousers, shirt, vest, pants, and 
 socks. The building Is an old bleaching 
 station, but has been largely refitted. A 
 regular army of women are employed In 
 the laundry, one of the most Important 
 parts of which Is the Ironing room, which 
 proves the cemetery of most of the eggs 
 of the lice. These bathing places have 
 had a wonderful effect on the health of 
 the troops. You need to be really dirty 
 for a few weeks before you can under- 
 stand anything of the delight of being 
 clean. 
 
 [30] 
 
Ill 
 
 INITIATION 
 
 March 23, 1915. 
 Last night I had to take out a party 
 of stretcher bearers to collect the wounded 
 from a certain regimental aid-post, a very 
 interesting experience. The exposed part 
 of the road is not long, but while we were 
 on it bullets kept singing past in the dark, 
 producing a curious sinking sensation in 
 my epigastric region, and an intense long- 
 ing to become like the mathematical point, 
 which, as Euclid assures us, has position 
 but no magnitude. When for the first time 
 you hear a bullet with its long-drawn 
 "wh-e-e-w" crossing the road on which 
 you are walking you experience a remark- 
 able disinclination to move forward rap- 
 idly, and a great and affectionate yearn- 
 ing for the ditch at the side of the road. 
 I believe, however, that you soon get over 
 these preliminary feelings of discomfort, 
 and you forget all about bullets when 
 shells begin to fly around. 
 
 [31] 
 
With a Field Ambulance at Ypres 
 
 On our return journey we passed a row 
 of houses, most of which had been reduced 
 to ruins by shell fire. At the end of the 
 row there stood a church, which had been 
 shelled three or four times a week for the 
 last four months, and the tower of which 
 had been blown to pieces three days ago. 
 The church was little more than a heap of 
 ruins. The Germans have a machine gun 
 trained on the corner where the church 
 stands, and now and then they open fire 
 in the hope of getting somebody. And yet 
 the cure has lived in his house all through 
 the winter, although that house is only 
 fifteen yards from the church, and every 
 window in it had been broken. At any 
 hour of the day you may see the priest go- 
 ing about visiting the sick, comforting the 
 bereaved, burying the dead, and cheering 
 the survivors. That is what Kipling would 
 call "a proper sort of padre." * 
 
 This afternoon I actually went to a 
 variety entertainment given by some of 
 the — th Division, who call themselves 
 "the Follies." The performance took 
 place in a little building adjoining the tech- 
 nical school, which must have been built 
 
 * A month later the cure was killed at his post 
 of duty. 
 
 [32] 
 
With a Field Ambulance at Ypres 
 
 as a theatre or concert hall, for there was 
 a stage, footlights, curtain and scenery. 
 The party was got up just like the Fol- 
 lies, the stage was decorated with Chinese 
 lanterns, and everything went with a 
 swing and without a hitch of any kind, 
 for there was plenty of talent in the com- 
 pany. The hall was crowded from floor 
 to ceiling — ^brigadier-generals, colonels, 
 subalterns and Tommies. And suddenly 
 you realised what it all meant. These men 
 in their grotesque costumes singing hu- 
 morous or sentimental songs, these crowds 
 of officers and men in an audience which 
 seemed to contain representatives from al- 
 most every regiment in the army, had, 
 many of them, come from the trenches and 
 would return there in a few hours, or from 
 the guns, or from aeroplanes. And this 
 delightfully amusing show was being held 
 only a couple of miles behind the firing 
 line, and well within range of the German 
 artillery. If a Prussian officer had walked 
 into that hall I think he would have been 
 considerably astonished. To me it was 
 a very wonderful experience. 
 
 To-morrow we leave Armentleres, as 
 our course of instruction is finished. This 
 is a very quiet part of the line, and that 
 
 [33] 
 
With a Field Ambulance at Ypres 
 
 no doubt is the reason why we were sent 
 here, but we have at least learned what it 
 feels like to have a bullet singing past 
 one's ear. So far I have said nothing 
 about the place itself. It is a large manu- 
 facturing town, which shows very little 
 evidence of war in the way of ruined build- 
 ings, and quite a large proportion of the 
 population has remained. There has been 
 hardly any serious shelling of the town — 
 very different from what one hears of 
 Ypres. I forgot to say that last night the 
 news came in of the fall of Przemysl, and 
 when it reached our men in the trenches 
 you could hear round upon round of 
 cheering. When the Germans heard of 
 the loss of our ships in the Dardanelles 
 they gave vent to similar expressions of 
 joy. 
 
 April 2, 1915. 
 We are having a spell of delightful 
 weather after the bitter east winds that 
 have prevailed ever since we landed; it 
 is balmy, sunny, and genial, and at last 
 it seems that "the hounds of Spring are 
 on Winter's traces." The early morning 
 to-day was just perfect, and it is a blessing 
 that we have to get up so early. Physical 
 drill at seven o'clock on an April morn- 
 
 [34] 
 
With a Field Ambulance at Ypres 
 
 Ing with the sun already blazing down 
 from a cloudless heaven is worth getting 
 up for. Such a day as this makes one 
 long to be in some of the good places of 
 the earth instead of this billiard-table land 
 of endless ploughed fields. Imagine such 
 a morning as this in the jaws of Borrow- 
 dale with Derwentwater gleaming through 
 the birches, or on the cliffs between the 
 Logan Rock and Land's End, or on that 
 winding road along Loch Long which will 
 soon be a mass of violets and primroses, 
 or amongst the pines of Lake Louise, or 
 on the snows of Mount Sir Donald. But 
 I suppose that we did not come out here 
 for scenic effects, and if you choose to 
 fight in the Low Countries you must not 
 look for Alpine grandeur, 
 
 A couple of days ago, however, I did 
 have a wonderful view. A few miles 
 away there is a certain small hill, which 
 rises like a cone from the surrounding flat- 
 ness, and on top of which there is a Trap- 
 pist monastery, now converted into a hos- 
 pital. Thither I rode on a lovely morn- 
 ing, and as my horse climbed the hill a 
 marvellous view gradually unfolded itself. 
 In every direction to the furthest horizon 
 stretched the great Flanders plain, as flat 
 
 [3S] 
 
With a Field Ambulance at Ypres 
 
 as the palm of a man's hand, save where 
 here and there a little knoll broke the dead 
 level. Half of Belgium seemed to lie 
 spread out in front of me. It is little 
 wonder that the Germans chose this flat 
 land for the great steam-roller of their ad- 
 vance, instead of the wooded, hilly, and 
 highly fortified line of the Franco-German 
 frontier. 
 
 April 3, 1915. 
 I had a really great time last night, and 
 I now feel that I have passed out of the 
 novitiate stage. Our division is to hold 
 part of the line running in front of Neuve 
 Eglise, a little place just over the Belgian 
 
 frontier, and M and I came over last 
 
 night to see how the evacuation of 
 wounded was worked before the rest of 
 the unit should arrive. We reached our 
 future headquarters, a farm about a mile 
 on our side of the village, at nine o'clock, 
 and made the acquaintance of the ambu- 
 lance whom we were to relieve on the mor- 
 row. After a short time spent in their 
 mess-room we started out with one of 
 their officers and the chaplain who were 
 to act as guides. I need hardly say that 
 it is not advisable to start out on a pitch 
 dark night in an unknown country and 
 
 [36] 
 
With a Field Ambulance at Ypres 
 
 find your way to a house just behind the 
 firing line without a guide. You are apt 
 to get into situations such as you did not 
 reckon on. 
 
 Soon we entered the village of Neuve 
 Eglise, which we found in a very battered 
 condition. One of the first buildings we 
 came to had been used as a dressing-sta- 
 tion by our predecessors until three weeks 
 ago, when a couple of shells crashed 
 through the roof and converted the place 
 into a shambles. One of the next build- 
 ings was a nunnery, roofless and with 
 crumbling walls, and many of the other 
 houses were in a similar condition. A few 
 of the inhabitants still live on in the cel- 
 lars, outside which are great piles of sand- 
 bags, for the Germans put about a dozen 
 shells into the place every day. In the 
 road there are great gaping holes made by 
 recent shells, which constitute a very real 
 danger to the horses and men in the dark- 
 ness, for of course we were unable to show 
 a light of any kind. Our party consisted 
 of a dozen stretcher bearers and two horse 
 ambulance wagons. 
 
 Leaving the village behind we tramped 
 along the dark road for a couple of miles. 
 It was raining steadily, but even under 
 
 [37] 
 
With a Field Ambulance at Ypres 
 
 those conditions it was a fascinating walk, 
 with the unending rows of poplars tower- 
 ing mysteriously above our heads; in the 
 branches the wind moaned drearily, and 
 overhead the dark clouds scudded by. 
 Every now and then the whole sky would 
 be lit up by the flares on the firing line, 
 and once we saw a bright red glow which 
 proved to come from a burning farm fired 
 by the German shells. The night, how- 
 ever, was wonderfully quiet. Not a gun 
 and hardly a rifle shot was to be heard. 
 There seemed to be a general truce on 
 both sides. 
 
 Now the object of our expedition was 
 to collect the casualties from two regimen- 
 tal aid posts, which lay more than half 
 a mile apart. It is perfectly safe going 
 as far as the first, for the ground rises 
 between the road and the German 
 trenches, but beyond that there is no shel- 
 ter of any kind, and it is not reckoned 
 a healthy place to linger in. We reached 
 the first of the aid posts, a little, solitary, 
 wayside house, apparently absolutely de- 
 serted, and producing a most dismal effect 
 upon the onlooker, especially under the 
 conditions which prevailed that night. Not 
 a ray of light came from the door or win- 
 
 [38] 
 
With a Field Ambulance at Ypres 
 
 dows. On the other side of the road there 
 was a little military cemetery where the 
 dead of the day were buried under cover 
 of darkness. The little wooden crosses 
 could just be made out against the dark 
 sky. The whole scene recalled irresistibly 
 some lines of Emile Caemmaert's, which 
 I came across a few days ago, and of 
 which the following is a translation : 
 
 A hundred yards from the trenches, 
 Close to the battle front, 
 There stands a little house. 
 Lonely and desolate. 
 
 Not a cry, not a sound, not a life, not a mouse, 
 Only the stillness of the great graveyards, 
 Only the crosses, the crooked wooden crosses, 
 On the wide lonely plain. 
 
 A low thatched cottage. 
 With doors and shutters closed, 
 The roof torn by a shell. 
 Standing out of the floods alone. 
 
 Not a man, not a cat, not a dog, not a soul. 
 Only a flight of crows along the railway line, 
 The sound of our boots on the muddy road. 
 And, along the Yser, the twinkling fires. 
 
 We entered the little house and found 
 it full of wounded. The regimental med- 
 
 [39] 
 
With a Field Ambulance at Ypres 
 
 ical officer lived there — a strange sort of 
 existence. The window was carefully 
 screened, so that no light would be visible 
 to the Bosche, otherwise the place would 
 soon have been made uninhabitable. The 
 room was lit by two guttering candles 
 stuck in empty bottles. The wind howled 
 round the corners of the house and down 
 the chimney in a manner calculated to give 
 any one the blues. The place was almost 
 bare of furniture; and yet the medical of- 
 ficer looked upon it as his home, for he 
 had lived there for the last two months, 
 and often it had served him as a refuge 
 from the storm, "when the blast of the 
 terrible ones Is as a storm against the 
 wall." And indeed as we listened we could 
 hear the crackle of rifles beginning, and 
 the vicious rat-tat-tat-tat of a machine gun, 
 and a few bullets flattened themselves 
 against the wall. Evidently the enemy 
 were beginning to wake up. We loaded 
 the wounded on to the ambulances and 
 set off for the next aid-post. No sooner 
 had we got out of the door than half a 
 dozen star-lights went up, showing every 
 detail of the country side, and at the same 
 time a very lively rifle fire began — the 
 enemy were indulging in a spell of "rapid 
 
 [40] 
 
With a Field Ambulance at Ypres 
 
 fire." Bullets began to hum or rather 
 whistle through the air, and strike the road 
 or the mud on each side of the road. I 
 found that my experience at Armentieres 
 stood me In good stead; it is the first time 
 you meet a bullet in the dark that It pro- 
 duces its peculiarly disquieting effect; the 
 acuteness of the sensation becomes blunted 
 with repetition, although it is difficult ever 
 to get on really friendly terms with these 
 presents "made in Germany." 
 
 When we were within a hundred yards 
 of the hamlet of Wulverghem, through 
 which we had to pass, a gun went off some- 
 where behind the German lines, followed 
 by the weirdest shriek or screech that I 
 had ever heard, which increased in intens- 
 ity until it reached its maximum just over 
 our heads, and then with an ear-splitting 
 crack the shrapnel burst. I was reduced 
 to a condition of abject fear, and crouched 
 trembling in the middle of the road, for 
 I thought that my last moment had come. 
 I had been walking with our two guides, 
 but when I assumed a more erect attitude 
 I found myself alone. Soon, however, a 
 couple of dark forms emerged from the 
 ditch at the side of the road, and I learned 
 that when a shell is going to burst just over 
 
 [41] 
 
With a Field Ambulance at Ypres 
 
 your head It is not bad form to take what 
 cover you can. You may be sure that 
 we did not take long to reach the nearest 
 house of the hamlet, and no sooner were 
 we under the shelter of its wall than 
 "bang" went the gun again, again that 
 long-drawn shriek, and this time the shell 
 burst right over the square where we were 
 standing, lighting up the darkness with 
 its angry glare. The effect produced, how- 
 ever, was very different, and the symptoms 
 of terror did not return. Shells kept pass- 
 ing overhead, but the range was gradually 
 Increased, and we could hear them burst- 
 ing on the road to Neuve Egllse. It was 
 evident that the Germans had opened fire 
 on the village in the hope of catching trans- 
 port in the square, and now they were 
 searching the road between Wulverghem 
 and Neuve Egllse. When things had 
 quieted down a bit we picked up the 
 wounded from the second post and made 
 our way home in the rain and darkness 
 without further Incident, except that the 
 whole ambulance was nearly capsized In 
 a huge shell hole. Thus ended a great 
 and memorable night, the night of Good 
 Friday. 
 
 [42] 
 
IV 
 
 A MIDNIGHT VISITOR 
 
 April 8, 191 5. 
 To my great sorrow I have had to say 
 good-bye to work in the field, for I have 
 been placed in charge of an infectious dis- 
 ease hospital at Bailleul, a small French 
 town about three miles from Neuve Eglise. 
 The work, however, is full of interest, for 
 we get in a tremendous variety of cases. 
 Thus at the present moment we have ex- 
 amples of the following diseases: measles, 
 German measles, mumps, scarlet fever, 
 diphtheria, typhoid fever and cerebro- 
 spinal meningitis. In addition to the hos- 
 pital itself we have a small farm which 
 is used for suspected cases of cerebro- 
 spinal meningitis. There is a regular epi- 
 demic of measles raging In this district, 
 and cases are even sent down from the 
 trenches, greatly, as a rule, to the disgust 
 of the patient. The great problem which 
 confronts one each day is how to evacuate 
 
 [43] 
 
With a Field Ambulance at Ypres 
 
 the cases, for the ambulance train running 
 to the base will seldom take more than one 
 type of infectious disease; but with the 
 help of a convoy of motor ambulances the 
 difficulty can usually be overcome. 
 
 A certain amount of bacteriological 
 knowledge comes in very handy in this 
 work. For instance, a few days ago the 
 ambulance brought a patient to the door. 
 His face was very inflamed, and on his 
 cheek were a number of pustules. Before 
 admitting the case I pricked one of these 
 blisters, smeared the contents on a slide, 
 and in a few minutes was able to demon- 
 strate under the microscope large numbers 
 of anthrax bacilli. The case was one of 
 anthrax, and was at once sent further down 
 the line for surgical and serum treatment. 
 A fortnight ago I saw another case of 
 anthrax of the cheek, in which the infec- 
 tion had come from the furry coat of the 
 soldier, who had used it as a pillow. It 
 is, however, in typhoid and cerebro-spinal 
 meningitis that a bacteriological examina- 
 tion is of the greatest value. 
 
 April 13, 191 5. 
 It is quite an age since I made an entry 
 in this diary, because nothing very star- 
 
 [44] 
 
With a Field Ambulance at Ypres 
 
 tling had happened. Now that something 
 startling has happened I take up my pen 
 again. Life has threatened to become dull 
 after our little midnight expeditions to 
 the firing line, but last night the Germans 
 were good enough to relieve the monotony 
 for us. 
 
 I was in bed fast asleep when suddenly 
 there was a tremendous explosion, fol- 
 lowed by another, and then another. At 
 first I thought the place was being shelled, 
 so I hurriedly slipped into a few clothes 
 and went out to see what was really hap- 
 pening, for it might be necessary to move 
 the patients into a position of greater 
 safety. The terrific explosions continued, 
 and by this time machine guns had joined 
 in, followed soon by rifle fire. No sooner 
 had I got out than I discovered that a 
 Zeppelin was over the town, and was busily 
 employed bombing the place. It was no 
 mere incendiary shells that were being 
 used, but the largest high-explosive bombs. 
 In the midst of the noise you could hear 
 floating down from above the whirr of the 
 airship's engines. Every now and then 
 came the long whistle of the great bomb 
 as it fell from a height of about three 
 thousand feet, a sound which at first pro- 
 
 [45] 
 
With a Field Ambulance at Ypres 
 
 duced a somewhat unpleasant sensation in 
 one's scalp. By this time shrapnel and 
 bits of anti-aircraft shell were beginning 
 to patter on the roofs around, and things 
 were assuming a general air of liveliness. 
 Presently, however, the terrific explosions 
 ceased, the airship drew off, and quiet 
 reigned once more. 
 
 This morning I went to have a look at 
 the damage. The holes were enormous, 
 one being twelve feet deep and sixty feet 
 in circumference. As usual, it was the 
 wretched civilians who were the sufferers. 
 Three were killed, an old woman of sev- 
 enty, a girl of eighteen, and a baby of 
 three months, and a number were seriously 
 injured. The military escaped altogether, 
 with the exception of one sentry, who got 
 a slight scratch. It was a typical night's 
 work on the part of the Bosche. The 
 apparently selective action of these great 
 engines of destruction is responsible for 
 some remarkable escapes. Two bombs 
 fell close to a house where several of our 
 men are billetted. They blew a kennel 
 to pieces, but the dog Inside escaped, al- 
 though rather badly shaken, and the men 
 in the house were unhurt. A man was 
 sleeping on a wagon close to which a bomb 
 
 [46] 
 
With a Field Ambulance at Ypres 
 
 burst. He was thrown some distance off 
 the floor of the wagon, but was none the 
 worse. I went to have a look at the house 
 where the old woman who was killed used 
 to live. It was represented by a huge hole 
 in the ground filled with a confused pile 
 of shattered tables, chairs and iron bed- 
 steads. The old woman and the baby 
 were found at the bottom of this hole. 
 Can you wonder that the French think 
 hard and bitter things about the Germans, 
 or that the entire people have thrown 
 themselves into the struggle with a whole- 
 heartedness that makes us feel, and I think 
 rightly feel, that so far we have only been 
 playing at war. Good honest beer for 
 the British workmen, good sound trade 
 unionism for the skilled worker, are no 
 doubt very excellent things, but somehow 
 the Frenchman has passed into another 
 and a higher world of thought. It is not 
 that he criticises these things; he simply 
 cannot understand them. They leave him 
 in a state of silent bewilderment. 
 
 April 14, igi5. 
 Last night I was looking at some won- 
 derful photographs of Ypres taken in the 
 middle of November, 19 14 — the Cloth 
 
 [47] 
 
With a Field Ambulance at Ypres 
 
 Hall in flames, the Cathedral in ruins. I 
 don't know how it is, but ever since I 
 landed in France my one ambition has been 
 to see Ypres. Somehow there is no place 
 that appeals to the imagination to any- 
 thing like the same extent, for there is no 
 place where, with regard to its former 
 and its present condition, you can say with 
 the same truth: "Look upon this picture, 
 and on this." Well, to-day I was priv- 
 ileged to catch my first glimpse of the 
 place. I had to go over to Poperinghe 
 in a car. It was a lovely afternoon, and 
 in the light of the sinking sun the flat 
 countryside took on a beauty it is usually 
 far from having. Suddenly between two 
 clumps of trees, across the great pastures, 
 I caught sight of three towers about five 
 miles away. It was Ypres, that ''sweet 
 city of the dreaming spires," Ypres, the 
 city of the dead, where, as Bright would 
 say, you can hear the beating of the wings 
 of the Angel of Death. 
 
 April i8, 1915. 
 
 I have been to Ypres. At midday yes- 
 terday, M suddenly turned up in a 
 
 big Wolsely car, said that he was off to 
 see a case of cerebro-spinal meningitis at 
 Ypres, and told me to jump in if I wanted 
 
 [48] 
 
With a Field Ambulance at Ypres 
 
 to have my often-expressed desire ful- 
 filled. It did not take me many seconds 
 to make up my mind, and, giving my staff- 
 sergeant a few hasty instructions as to how 
 to carry on in my absence, I boarded the 
 car, and off we went. 
 
 We found that we had chosen an un- 
 fortunate day, for the road was simply 
 choc-a-bloc with troops and their impedi- 
 menta as a big move was In progress. We 
 had to pass seventy-eight motor busses 
 carrying the — th Brigade, besides count- 
 less guns, limbers, ammunition wagons, 
 etc. The dust was simply awful. As we 
 neared Ypres we could see the shrapnel 
 bursting around an aeroplane — little white 
 puffs against the blue sky. A couple of 
 shells fell near our road, making a bit of 
 a bang, but nothing to make a fuss about. 
 
 At last we drove into the town itself. 
 Just at first it did not produce the impres- 
 sion on me that I expected, for much of 
 the town is still inhabited, many of the 
 original twenty thousand inhabitants still 
 live there, shops are open, civilians and 
 soldiers are In the streets, ambulances and 
 forage carts move about, there is a gen- 
 eral feeling of life about the place. But 
 when you enter the Grande Place you real- 
 
 [49] 
 
With a Field Ambulance at Ypres 
 
 ise something of what has befallen the 
 town. For it was the Grande Place and 
 the buildings which stood in it, which were 
 the glory of Ypres. The Cloth Hall and 
 the Cathedral were the Houses of Parlia- 
 ment and the Westminster Abbey of the 
 old Flemish city. But it is a Westminster 
 Abbey in ruins, and Houses of Parliament 
 without roof or windows or doors or ceil- 
 ing. It is not a question of a shell hole 
 here and there — the whole place has sim- 
 ply been smashed to pieces and gutted by 
 fire. It is one of the unpardonable things 
 that the Germans have done. There have 
 been good military reasons for much of 
 their destructiveness. In other cases it 
 has been unintentional and incidental. But 
 modern gunnery does not hit a thing like 
 the Cloth Hall of Ypres by mistake. For 
 two months, when there was still a chance 
 of their taking the place, the Cloth Hall 
 was untouched. Then came the great 
 fight at the end of October, culminating in 
 the attack of the Prussian Guard in the sec- 
 ond week of November, under the eyes of 
 the Kaiser himself. It failed and the Huns 
 slowly and methodically, ohne Hast und 
 ohne Rast, just blew the glorious buildings 
 to bits. 
 [50] 
 
A DAY WITH THE GUNNERS 
 
 April 22, 19 1 5. 
 
 Yesterday I had a great day with the 
 artillery. I had to go and visit my friend 
 
 A , who is medical officer to the — th 
 
 artillery brigade, in connection with some 
 work. The headquarters of the brigade 
 is at the little village of Kemmel, behind 
 which rises Kemmel Hill, one of the great 
 artillery observing stations in our line. It 
 was a delightful afternoon, and the ride 
 to Kemmel took me through far and away 
 the most charming bit of country that I 
 have seen since coming out here; up hill 
 and down dale, through woods where the 
 young green of the larch was a constant 
 delight to the eyes, with the birds sing- 
 ing in the branches, and wood anemones, 
 celandines, violets and wild strawberry 
 flowers on every side. There is just one 
 little bit of hilly country like this; beyond 
 in every direction stretches the great plain 
 
 [51] 
 
With a Field Ambulance at Ypres 
 
 of Flanders. Let us be thankful that we 
 hold the hills. 
 
 After riding for an hour and a half I 
 crossed a rise, and, looking down into the 
 hollow beyond, I saw the famous little 
 village — it is a mere hamlet — basking in 
 the sun below me. The first thing that 
 struck me was the enormous number of 
 telephone wires that ran in all directions, 
 crossing and recrossing till they formed 
 a regular network, and looking strangely 
 out of place in the midst of such rural sur- 
 roundings. These were the various wires 
 going from headquarters to the observa- 
 tion stations and the batteries, from the 
 observation stations to the batteries, and 
 from both of these to the fire trenches. 
 
 The next thing that impressed me was 
 the deserted appearance of the place. Al- 
 though I knew that there were all sorts 
 of troops about, hardly a soul was to be 
 seen. The reason for this, as I discovered 
 later, was that no one was allowed out 
 unless on duty. The village is within range 
 of rifle fire. Further, you do not want a 
 scouting Taube to see a crowd of men 
 hanging around the various headquarters, 
 and thus learn the position of these im- 
 portant buildings. Result — a village ap- 
 
 [52] 
 
With a Field Ambulance at Ypres 
 
 parently containing nothing but civilians, 
 with the hot sun baking down from a 
 cloudless sky, and a general air of peace 
 and slumber over everything, save for the 
 remains of half-demolished houses that 
 met the eye in every direction. Nothing 
 but quiet and peace on this hot afternoon, 
 but suddenly there was an explosion so 
 close that my horse leapt into the air and 
 I nearly fell into the ditch. At first I 
 thought that a shell had burst just behind 
 me, but it was only one of our own 
 howitzers, so artfully concealed that I 
 had not noticed it, being fired within a 
 few yards of me. 
 
 After a cup of tea at brigade headquar- 
 ters, A and I visited several of the 
 
 batteries, and I had a chance of admiring 
 the extraordinarily cunning way in which 
 the gun positions were hidden both from 
 the German lines and from the air. The 
 dug-outs where the officers and men on 
 duty sleep are great places. You descend 
 into a hole in the ground, and find yourself 
 In a tiny chamber varying from three to 
 five feet in height, roofed with stout tim- 
 bers on top of which is a layer of sand- 
 bags, with turf sods covering all. In many 
 cases ivy was trained over the roof, cow- 
 
 [53] 
 
With a Field Ambulance at Ypres 
 
 slips and violets were planted at the door, 
 and outside the mansion called "Fern 
 Villa" hung two baskets filled with very 
 charming ferns and moss. One officer, 
 however, outdistanced all competitors by 
 having had a basket of orchids sent over 
 from England, which basket he exhibited 
 to visitors with the most inordinate pride. 
 
 There is no doubt about it that the gun- 
 ners have a much better time of it than 
 the infantry. They certainly live in 
 greater peace and comfort, and their par- 
 ticular method of slaughtering men is full 
 of scientific interest. As we passed one 
 of the batteries we found the men en- 
 gaged in a game of football. Suddenly 
 the sharp sound of a whistle was heard. 
 In a moment every man was a motionless 
 statue. A hostile aeroplane was over- 
 head, which would at once have detected 
 the gun position if the men had been mov- 
 ing about, whereas motionless they are in- 
 visible. We stood thus for a couple of 
 minutes, and then two blasts v/ere sounded 
 on the whistle, and we were free to move 
 on again. 
 
 Our first visit was to one of the observa- 
 tion stations on Kemmel Hill. The hill 
 is covered with trees, and amongst the 
 
 [54] 
 
With a Field Ambulance at Ypres 
 
 trees are numbers of dug-outs, all used 
 as observation posts by the various bat- 
 teries, but quite invisible until you are act- 
 ually upon them, so cunningly are they con- 
 cealed. We reached the one for which 
 we were bound, and entered. Inside were 
 a couple of chairs on which we sat in com- 
 fort, and by means of a telescope sus- 
 pended from the roof surveyed through 
 a narrow opening In the wall the network 
 of trenches spread out in the valley at our 
 feet. It was a glorious afternoon, ideal 
 for observing, and there in front of us, 
 spread out before our eyes, was a wonder- 
 ful panorama. 
 
 Immediately opposite at a distance of a 
 couple of miles were the German trenches, 
 and over those lines the shrapnel was 
 bursting In little fleecy clouds. Away to 
 the left lay Ypres, like some dream city In 
 the warm light of the sinking sun, with 
 delicate wisps of mist eddying around its 
 shattered spires. In between was Hill 60, 
 where a furious bombardment was In pro- 
 gress. And yet with it all not a living crea- 
 ture nor moving thing could be seen for 
 miles, and the whole countryside seemed 
 as deserted as the Sahara. But it was a 
 Sahara swarming with moles, moles who 
 
 [55] 
 
With a Field Ambulance at Ypres 
 
 lived in burrows, who spied at one another 
 through peep holes, in whose minds there 
 was but one thought — to slay — and who 
 shouted at each other with deep-toned 
 voices, which carried but one message — 
 death. 
 
 At first peace reigned in the dug-out, 
 as the battery for which it observed was 
 not in action. Presently, however, the 
 telephone bell rang. It was an order from 
 headquarters for our battery to open fire 
 on a certain segment of the enemy's 
 trenches. The battery commander turned 
 to the telephone orderly with the com- 
 mand, "Battery prepare for action," which 
 was transmitted to the battery over a mile 
 away. At that moment the gunners were 
 playing football, but in exactly two and a 
 half minutes the message came up along 
 the wire, "All ready, sir." There were 
 a few moments of tense silence while the 
 battery major sat with his eye glued to the 
 telescope; then he muttered, "Number one 
 — fire!" "Number one — fire!" repeated 
 the telephonist. Dead silence, and then 
 the word came up, "Number one fired, 
 sir." Again absolute silence, and sud- 
 denly the shell rushed past overhead shout- 
 ing its song of death, and later still the 
 
With a Field Ambulance at Ypres 
 
 report of the gun came floating up from 
 behind. 
 
 Every eye was strained on the enemy's 
 trenches, and in a few moments we could 
 see the flash and white smoke of the shell 
 as it burst over the trenches, but it seemed 
 ages before the noise of the explosion 
 reached us. The first shell was short and 
 a little high, so the range was corrected. 
 The next was right for length, but still 
 high; the fusing was altered. The third 
 was just right, exactly above the trenches, 
 and a murmur of satisfaction arose from 
 the little group of watchers. Truly the 
 gunner is a bloodthirsty man, and I must 
 admit that I had certain qualms of pity 
 for the poor beggars in the trenches. 
 
 I don't know what it all means, but 
 there must be desperate work going on at 
 Hill 60 and St. Eloi, which is just tliis 
 side of it. I spent the night at Kemmel, 
 and at ten o'clock every gun for miles 
 around seemed to waken into activity. We 
 watched the show from a small platform 
 on the roof of the chateau which is used 
 as headquarters. Right along the hillside 
 there was nothing to be seen but wicked 
 red tongues of fire, which seemed to stab 
 Into the blackness of the right. The noise 
 
 [57] 
 
With a Field Ambulance at Ypres 
 
 was just like hell let loose. Every kind 
 and description of gun was hard at it — 
 field guns, howitzers, 4.7's, 9.2's, and even 
 the great 15-inch monster, whilst over the 
 trenches there was a storm of bursting 
 shrapnel and high explosive in which it 
 seemed that no man could live. German 
 shells screamed over our heads and burst 
 on the hill behind, and it was interesting 
 and fairly easy to differentiate between the 
 sound of our shells and of the enemy's. 
 
 From this scene, full of sound and fury, 
 we turned away, descended the stairs, and 
 entered the sitting-room, which was at the 
 other side of the house. Here was 
 comparative silence, an atmosphere of 
 peace, little of the hubbub penetrat- 
 ing the heavily shuttered windows. 
 But at the table sat a man with a telephone 
 receiver at his ear, and as the messages 
 came in from the forward observing sta- 
 tion in the trenches describing the accuracy 
 and extent of our fire, the necessary orders 
 were sent out of that quiet room, down to 
 the gunners at the batteries. Suddenly in 
 the midst of all the turmoil and excitement 
 the telephone bell rang, and a message 
 came in from some one far away, some 
 
 [58] 
 
With a Field Ambulance at Ypres 
 
 one unaware that any battle was In pro- 
 gress: "Please send In a return at once of 
 the number of great coats in your bri- 
 gade!" 
 
 [59] 
 
VI 
 
 GAS 
 
 April 23, 1915. 
 I HAVE just heard some very bad news. 
 If it is true, then the battle I watched from 
 Kemmel was a really big affair. The di- 
 visional staff slept in their clothes last 
 night. 
 
 Later. 
 
 Have just heard that things have righted 
 themselves. The Germans broke through 
 the French hne north of Ypres and pushed 
 it back a couple of miles. Then Canadi- 
 ans came up and drove Germans right 
 back to their original lines. Have just 
 seen a hundred and thirty wounded Ca- 
 nadians come in. All in great spirits, and 
 seem to have given Germans a pretty bad 
 time. Incendiary shells are falling in 
 Ypres, which is on fire in two places. Can 
 hear tremendous bombardment going on. 
 Warned to be ready to rejoin for field 
 work at a moment's notice. 
 
 [60] 
 
With a Field Ambulance at Ypres 
 
 April 24, igi5. 
 
 What a time we have been having dur- 
 ing the last two days ; nothing but rumours 
 of retreat and advance, defeat and vic- 
 tory. Before breakfast I met a Royal 
 Flying Corps officer who told me that the 
 Germans had broken through the French 
 line— the French have a Turco division 
 between us and the Belgians — at a place 
 called Langemarck, and that the French 
 had fallen back four miles. 
 
 Soon more news began to filter through. 
 The Canadian division, who were on the 
 right of the French, found themselves in 
 danger of being hung up in the air, so 
 they also had to fall back. All sorts of 
 alarmist rumours came in that the Ca- 
 nadians had been nearly wiped out, and 
 that the fall of Ypres might be expected 
 at any moment. Then the news came that 
 Poperinghe was being shelled, and that 
 Ypres was on fire. Both of these reports 
 turned out to be correct. Poperinghe, 
 which was full of hospitals, and which 
 was regarded as being in every way safe, 
 has been bombarded with twelve-inch 
 shells. All the hospitals have been cleared 
 out, as well as the mobile laboratory sta- 
 tioned there, and almost the whole civilian 
 
 [61] 
 
With a Field Ambulance at Ypres 
 
 population has fled. Those who remain 
 are probably spies. Every hour we hear 
 of new places coming within range of the 
 German guns, and it may be the turn of 
 Bailleul next. Three French army corps 
 are reported as being rushed up, and this 
 morning I met the — th division on its 
 way from Armentieres to Ypres. 
 
 The Canadians seem to have put up a 
 splendid fight, but lost very heavily. Yes- 
 terday evening the wounded began to come 
 in, whole motor convoys of them, but they 
 could only give a very confused account of 
 what was happening. All last night the 
 traffic was incessant through the streets 
 of Bailleul, ammunition carts going up 
 to the firing line, ambulances bringing 
 wounded down to the clearing hospitals. 
 All night long the sound of tremendous 
 cannonading came down the wind, min- 
 gled with almost continuous rifle fire. 
 
 This morning more news came in with 
 the ambulance convoys. The convoys 
 themselves had had a pretty bad time. 
 Apparently there had been a night of ter- 
 rific confused fighting in the fields, men 
 simply going for one another with the 
 bayonet or clubbed rifle by the light of 
 the bursting shells, no man knowing where 
 
 [62] 
 
With a Field Ambulance at Ypres 
 
 his fellows were, or where he was him- 
 self. It was Canadian versus German, 
 and you can guess which was the better 
 side in a contest of that nature. But when 
 the ambulance convoys arrived on the 
 scene they found no field ambulance, no 
 doctors, nothing but men fighting in dark 
 ploughed fields, the grim scene lit by the 
 light of star-shells, with shrapnel burst- 
 ing all along the road to prevent reinforce- 
 ments coming up. The ambulance people 
 had to pick the wounded out of the fields 
 and ditches, and get them into the cars 
 as best they could, but it wa,s pretty hot 
 work. A considerable number of the R. A. 
 M. C. men were shot, and two of the 
 wounded in the cars were killed by shrap- 
 nel. And still the wounded keep pouring 
 in, and still the ammunition wagons rumble 
 forth to feed the dogs of war. 
 
 April 2S, 1915- 
 The tension does not abate. Indeed, 
 it increases every day. The fighting is 
 desperate in the extreme, and the number 
 of wounded pouring in is frightful. I 
 spent nine hours to-day working in one of 
 the dressing stations. If any one is in 
 the slightest degree responsible for this 
 
 [63] 
 
With a Field Ambulance at Ypres 
 
 war he ought to be made to spend a few 
 hours in a dressing-station where cases 
 come straight in from the firing Hne, some 
 of whom have been lying out in the fields 
 for several days. Remember that a piece 
 of shrapnel is sometimes bigger than a 
 hen's tggy and jagged at that, and you 
 will realise that when it hits a man in the 
 face it is apt to make a mess. The result 
 of a similar bit which has torn open the 
 abdomen and exposed the bowels is also 
 not a pleasant sight. It is as if some great 
 brute had trampled on the men, in Brown- 
 ing's words, "pashing their life out, with 
 a brute's intents." That is what they are; 
 they are pashed. Under such circum- 
 stances all the talk about the glory and 
 glamour of war is rather apt to stick in 
 one's throat. 
 
 I am too tired to write any more. 
 
 April 28, 191 5. 
 
 There is only one word in the mouth 
 of every one to-day — gas. Vague rumours 
 of gas have been floating about, but no 
 one really believed them. Now the stage 
 of rumour is past, and we know the worst. 
 And a very bad worst it is. 
 
 This morning I had to go to one of the 
 
 [64] 
 
With a Field Ambulance at Ypres 
 
 casualty clearing stations, and there I saw 
 a sight which for sheer ghastliness equals 
 anything to be seen in any dressing station. 
 The hospital is built around a great court- 
 yard, and in that courtyard were two hun- 
 dred men on stretchers. Some were lying 
 in a state of stupor, the flies buzzing about 
 their faces; some were sitting up gasping 
 for breath, with hands and faces of a 
 deep, dusky hue, evidently in the greatest 
 distress; over the countenance of others 
 the pallid hues of death were beginning 
 to creep, whilst a few had fallen back and 
 with gurglings in the throat were passing 
 away into the undiscovered country. They 
 were the first gas cases from Ypres and 
 Hill 60. 
 
 The description of the gas varied to an 
 extraordinary extent. It was described 
 as black, brown, yellow, green and 
 white. Some said that it came from 
 large hose pipes attached to cylinders, 
 others that it was contained in hand 
 grenades, others that it came from 
 shells fired from field guns, and 
 still others that a fluid was sprayed on 
 to the trenches, which was then ignited 
 by fire-shells. There seems to be little 
 doubt that all four methods were em- 
 
 [6s] 
 
With a Field Ambulance at Ypres 
 
 ployed. It is also probable that different 
 gases were used at different parts of the 
 line. Most of it was brown like bromine, 
 some yellow or green like chlorine, and 
 the black fumes may have been due to 
 the ignition of some fluid such as benzol. 
 It was quite impossible to see or breathe 
 in this gas, and even when the men got 
 out of it the lungs and heart were so af- 
 fected that they were quite unable to make 
 any exertion. One and all were agreed 
 that to face this new danger unprotected 
 was impossible. 
 
 The principal method seems to have 
 been as follows: The gas was launched 
 from cylinders, and was carried by the 
 easterly breeze right on to our trenches, 
 into which, being very heavy, it rolled. 
 Our men had to clear out of the trenches, 
 whereupon they were met by a withering 
 rifle fire. A couple of hundred yards back 
 there was a swell in the ground which 
 sheltered them from rifle fire, but a storm 
 of shrapnel burst over their heads, for 
 the German gunners had the range to a 
 yard, and had everything in readiness. It 
 was very much the method of sending a 
 ferret down a rabbit hole, and waiting at 
 the other opening with a gun. 
 [66] 
 
With a Field Ambulance at Ypres 
 
 There Is a wounded German officer In 
 hospital who says that four days ago cyl- 
 inders of gas arrived In the trenches, but 
 the wind was not favourable at the time, 
 so they were dug Into position and used 
 when the wind veered round Into the east. 
 The German troops in the first line 
 trenches were served out with some form 
 of mask impregnated with a chemical, 
 which they wore over their nose and 
 mouth. Every effort is being made at 
 present to secure one of these, and deter- 
 mine the chemical present, but so far with- 
 out success. M has gone away up 
 
 north this evening to try to secure one 
 from the German prisoners, and his re- 
 turn Is anxiously awaited. Meanwhile I 
 have been very busy investigating the 
 blood of some of the worst cases, examin- 
 ing the serum spectroscopically, In the 
 hope that some indication may be afforded 
 as to the nature of the gas, but up to the 
 present the results have been disappoint- 
 ing. 
 
 [67] 
 
VII 
 
 IN THE FIELD AGAIN 
 
 May I, 1915. 
 I HAVE returned to work in the field, 
 and I cannot say that I am sorry. Last 
 night I did the old round to Wulverghem 
 with three waggons and a small party of 
 stretcher bearers. There was no more 
 shrapnel, but heaps of bullets were flying 
 about. I know that it is not the general 
 opinion, but I think that I prefer shells 
 to rifle bullets. They frighten you more, 
 but do not make you feel so remarkably 
 uncomfortable. Besides, you can hear a 
 shell coming, and can get out of the way, 
 whereas a bullet is on you before you know 
 where you are, and makes a most vindic- 
 tive sound when passing in the dark, as 
 if it were extremely annoyed at having 
 missed you. Of course in this compari- 
 son I am only referring to mild shrapnel 
 shelling. Really heavy shelling with high 
 explosives beats any rifle fire. 
 [68] 
 
With a Field Ambulance at Ypres 
 
 We had to carry the cases some dis- 
 tance to the ambulance, and, as I was walk- 
 ing by the side of one of the stretcher 
 squads, eight bullets whizzed just over 
 our heads in rapid succession, and buried 
 themselves in a couple of trees which we 
 happened to be passing at the moment. I 
 have never seen a party of men assume 
 a recumbent position more speedily, and 
 when we got up we could not help laugh- 
 ing. The only person who did not laugh 
 was the patient, who had been shot an 
 hour before almost on that very spot. The 
 bullet had passed through both cheeks, al- 
 though strangely enough without touch- 
 ing either jaw (he must have had his 
 mouth open at the time), so, while he 
 might see the humour of the situation, he 
 was hardly in a position to laugh. 
 
 We got back at one o'clock, but I had 
 to go out again with fresh bearers at three. 
 It was a perfect morning, hot enough for 
 summer, but with all the freshness of 
 spring, and the country was looking 
 charming. The whole land was covered 
 with luxuriant growth, for there is not a 
 soul at Wulverghem to till the ground. 
 Everywhere was luscious green grass, full 
 of tall buttercups and cuckoo flowers. 
 
 [69] 
 
With a Field Ambulance at Ypres 
 
 Here and there, forming the chief feature 
 of the landscape, were great splashes of 
 vivid gold, due to some tall yellow weed 
 something like our mustard plant. The 
 ditches contained masses of a large white 
 stellaria, that looked singularly beautiful 
 against the lovely green of the grass. The 
 birds were in full song, all nature was 
 smiling; we might have been wandering 
 through English meadows. While the 
 bearers were getting the patient ready I 
 went into the little garden at the back of 
 the aid post. The place had been con- 
 verted into an English cemetery; there 
 were fifteen or twenty crosses, several of 
 them bearing the names of friends of 
 mine, and five open graves were standing 
 ready waiting for the dead of the day. 
 The contrast was horrible — the lovely 
 summer morning, with the song of the 
 birds in the air, and those open graves 
 waiting to swallow men whom pos- 
 sibly one might know quite well. As I 
 opened the door to leave the house a bul- 
 let struck the pavement at my very feet, 
 and, glancing off, wounded in the chest an 
 orderly standing beside me. For a mo- 
 ment my mind reverted to those empty 
 [70] 
 
With a Field Ambulance at Ypres 
 
 graves, but such thoughts do not last long 
 on a lovely May morning. 
 
 On the way home we had to pass 
 through Neuve Eglise. It has had a very 
 fair battering lately, and I was amused to 
 see a notice chalked up on the door of one 
 of the houses. The house next door had 
 been demolished by a shell, and the house 
 itself had' had a nasty knock. The whole 
 affair looked as if a good push would make 
 it collapse, but on the door was written: 
 "Please do not touch; this house is in- 
 habited." It reminded one of the "Please 
 do not touch" on old relics in a museum, 
 which might crumble to pieces if roughly 
 handled. 
 
 By the way, I hear that the heroic cure 
 at Armentieres, who stuck to his post all 
 through the winter when he was perfectly 
 at liberty to leave, was killed last week. 
 
 May 10, 1915. 
 This afternoon I had again to pay a 
 visit to Kemmel. Every time I go there 
 it becomes more delightful, and to-day it 
 was just wonderful. I started shortly 
 after three, and when I got to Neuve 
 Eglise I found that the Germans were 
 shelling it. The detour necessary to avoid 
 
 [71] 
 
With a Field Ambulance at Ypres 
 
 the village is a long one, so I did not make 
 it, and was soon quietly riding along the 
 main road to Kemmel, which I reached in 
 
 time to have tea with A . 
 
 After tea we went for a stroll, which 
 naturally took us up the hill. That walk 
 was a thing to be remembered. The sun 
 was sinking in the West, and the light and 
 shade would have lent charm to any land- 
 scape. The ditches on either side of the 
 road were one mass of flowers, red, yel- 
 low, blue, and white : the red campion, a 
 beautiful large yellow dead nettle which 
 grows everywhere, together with cowslips 
 and the great water ranunculus, blue speed- 
 wells, violets and forget-me-nots, and in 
 the hedgerows the first white boughs of 
 hawthorn. The hill itself was blue, lit- 
 erally blue, with wild hyacinths, the "blue 
 hyacinthine haze" of Swinburne. Half- 
 way up we came upon a delightful grassy 
 track running along the hillside between 
 great banks of blue. From this sylvan 
 path we looked down upon Ypres in the 
 plain below. Every now and then a great 
 column of black smoke would shoot up 
 from the tortured town, and drift slowly 
 away towards Poperinghe. The Bosche 
 was apparently still smashing the place 
 
 [72] 
 
With a Field Ambulance at Ypres 
 
 with his 17-inch shells. Gradually these 
 masses of smoke drifted together until 
 they formed one huge cloud, which hung 
 over the town and streamed right away to 
 the horizon. The whole place must have 
 been on fire, although we could make out 
 no flames in the bright light. As the sun 
 sank lower and lower in the west this omi- 
 nous pall took on the most glorious col- 
 ours, deep orange and gold, fading away 
 at the margins into darkest purple. 
 
 In the meantime an aeroplane had been 
 coming up behind us, and continued to 
 make for the German lines, soon dwin- 
 dling to a mere black dot against the bril- 
 liant blue of the sky. Suddenly, in a flash, 
 in the twinkling of an eye, a little white 
 ball about the size of your hand appeared 
 against that brilliant blue close to the aero- 
 plane. One moment there was nothing 
 but the immense blue dome, the next, al- 
 though you heard nothing and saw nothing 
 coming, there was that little fleecy cloud 
 hanging high in mid-air. In my opinion 
 this is one of the most purely spectacular 
 effects in the whole war. When you have 
 been out here for sometime you are apt 
 to grow somewhat blase, but the sight of 
 an aeroplane being shelled never loses its 
 
 [73] 
 
With a Field Ambulance at Ypres 
 
 fascination. The appearance of the first 
 puff of pure white shrapnel smoke against 
 the deep blue of a cloudless sky is one of 
 the most dramatic things you can imagine. 
 The contrast in colours is perfect. You 
 never get the same dazzling absolute white 
 in a cloud, nor do you get a tiny isolated 
 cloud against the great expanse of blue. 
 
 The aeroplane was travelling at a good 
 speed, and soon there was a long string 
 of little white clouds to mark its course. 
 Now and then we lost sight of it, and 
 would fear that it had been hit, but on 
 listening intently we could hear the faint 
 drone of the engine coming down from the 
 great height. Suddenly it made an abrupt 
 right-angled turn, thus indicating the posi- 
 tion of the hostile battery it had been ob- 
 serving, and a moment later our big guns 
 began to speak. And all around us were 
 hyacinths and speedwells and forget-me- 
 nots, and the red sun was sinking in a 
 golden splendour in the west. And still 
 the shrapnel burst around the aeroplane, 
 and still those great columns of black 
 smoke rolled up from burning Ypres. 
 
 We descended from the hill to one of 
 the batteries, and were just in time for a 
 little piece of excitement. During the day 
 [74] 
 
With a Field Ambulance at Ypres 
 
 some of the gunners had employed their 
 time constructing a dummy gun, only par- 
 tially concealing it with brushwood. They 
 then filled the barrel of a rifle with black 
 gunpowder, and left one man in charge of 
 it beside the dummy. When it was getting 
 dusk, this man pulled the trigger and ran 
 for his life. The gunpowder-filled rifle 
 went off with a mighty roar, and a spout 
 of flame issued from the barrel. The 
 dummy gun was so placed that It could 
 easily be seen from the German lines once 
 attention was attracted towards It, and al- 
 most at once several batteries began to 
 pour their fire upon It. In addition to 
 highly delighting our men, this little ruse 
 gave us some valuable Information of the 
 enemy's batteries. A battery seldom fires 
 In the dusk unless greatly provoked (as 
 In the present Instance), for, although it 
 may be perfectly concealed by day, the tell- 
 tale flash In the darkness betrays Its posi- 
 tion, and next morning It will probably 
 receive unwelcome attention from the op- 
 posing guns. 
 
 I stayed for dinner at Kemmel, and rode 
 home In the dark afterwards. It was 
 quite an Interesting ride, with star-shells 
 
 [75] 
 
With a Field Ambulance at Ypres 
 
 going up every minute right along the 
 line, the continuous roll of rifle fire, and 
 now and then the vicious rattle of a ma- 
 chine gun, or the sullen b-o-o-m of some 
 great howitzer away up at Ypres. There 
 are drawbacks to riding alone at night, 
 which, however, serve to heighten the in- 
 terest. You may ride into a telephone 
 wire which crosses the road just on a level 
 with your chin, in which case your horse 
 will probably finish the journey alone, or 
 your horse may put his foot into a recent 
 shell hole in the road, or, worst of all, a 
 spy may shoot you In the back with an air 
 gun, a nasty practice which Is becoming 
 almost a habit in these parts. 
 
 None of these things happened, but as 
 I rode into the square of Neuve Eglise 
 I thought I saw a light moving In the 
 churchyard. Now it is strictly forbidden 
 to show a light in the village, and as the 
 square is visible from the German lines 
 It seemed quite possible that some one was 
 trying to signal to friend Bosche. I there- 
 fore dismounted as quietly as possible, tied 
 up my horse, and crept silently into the 
 graveyard, taking cover behind the tomb- 
 stones. But the place was absolutely de- 
 [76] 
 
With a Field Ambulance at Ypres 
 
 serted, and although I peered into every 
 shell hole, my hopes of capturing a spy 
 single-handed were doomed to disappoint- 
 ment. 
 
 [77] 
 
VIII 
 
 THE BURNING OF YPRES 
 
 May 13, 1915. 
 
 Yesterday I came to Kemmel for four 
 days' work. I arrived in the afternoon. 
 Ypres cannot be seen from the village, but 
 its position was still marked by the great 
 cloud which hung over it, and which 
 stretched away for miles like some enor- 
 mous streamer. About ten o'clock the 
 adjutant suggested to me that we should 
 go out to see if any glow from Ypres was 
 visible. It was a perfect night, brilliantly 
 clear, starry, and absolutely still, what 
 Stevenson would call a wonderful clear 
 night of stars. Against the cloudless sky 
 we could make out a great dark patch, 
 the under surface of which glowed rosy 
 red. We at once determined to climb the 
 hill. 
 
 That was a strange ascent. For the 
 greater part of the way it lay through the 
 wood, and we were continually f alHng over 
 
 [78] 
 
With a Field Ambulance at Ypres 
 
 tree trunks, tumbling Into shell holes, run- 
 ning Into telephone wires, and extricating 
 ourselves from barbed wire. Not a sound 
 was to be heard save the croaking of the 
 frogs. Suddenly we emerged from the 
 tangled undergrowth on to the bare sum- 
 mit of the hill, and sat down at the foot 
 of the ruined tower. The scene that met 
 our eyes was so solemn, so awe-inspiring 
 that all conversation between us ceased. 
 For at our feet lay Ypres, burning furi- 
 ously. The great cloud that hung above 
 it was now glowing as if some vast fur- 
 nace was burning in its midst, but the cloud 
 Itself appeared to be absolutely motion- 
 less. Now and then great tongues of flame 
 would leap up from the doomed town, 
 but apart from these the whole impres- 
 sion was one of rest, immobility. We felt 
 that we were looking at some painted 
 scene, or watching a vast stage where 
 some lurid Mephistophelian drama was 
 being enacted. Here and there along 
 the line a star-shell would go up, 
 and, bursting, light the landscape with 
 a garish flare. Overhead were the quiet 
 stars. Nothing broke the great silence, 
 save now and then the deep, rich, solemn 
 b-o-o-m of a big gun far away up north, 
 
 [79] 
 
With a Field Ambulance at Ypres 
 
 with, perhaps, an occasional crackle of 
 rifles near at hand. But, as we sat, the 
 stillness of the night was broken by the 
 song of a bird, faint and hesitating at 
 first, but gradually gathering volume, till 
 the whole air was throbbing with the mel- 
 ody. It was a nightingale singing in the 
 wood below. We sat on, and on, and on. 
 The whole town was glowing like the 
 mouth of hell. Now and again some roof 
 would apparently fall in, and the great 
 hungry tongues of fire would lick the sky, 
 but at our distance no sound broke the 
 awesome stillness — only the song of the 
 nightingale and the booming of guns. 
 
 May 14, 1915- 
 We had a little bit of excitement (still 
 at Kemmel) about an hour ago. We were 
 enjoying a smoke after dinner, when sud- 
 denly a tremendous hubbub commenced. 
 All the guns in the district seemed to have 
 opened fire at once, and when we went 
 out on the balcony the air was full of the 
 rattle of maxims, the continuous roar of 
 rifle fire, and the scream and bursting of 
 shells. Of all awe-inspiring sounds that 
 of ''rapid fire" from thousands of rifles 
 is perhaps the most impressive; it is like 
 [80] 
 
With a Field Ambulance at Ypres 
 
 the roar of the Atlantic on some pebbly 
 beach. In a few moments a message came 
 in from the trenches that the enemy was 
 preparing to attack, and at once the order 
 went out to our three batteries, "Rapid 
 battery fire." Within a minute and a half 
 you could hear our guns hard at work. 
 Not far from us there was a battery of 
 Royal Horse Artillery, which made the 
 weirdest noise, just as if a tin tray had 
 been banged five times in rapid succession 
 with a big stick. The uproar lasted for 
 twenty minutes and then died away. The 
 attack had been beaten off, and perfect 
 quiet reigned in the valley. 
 
 [8i] 
 
IX 
 
 A CITY OF THE DEAD 
 
 ' May 20, igi5. 
 
 I HAVE just paid a second visit to Ypres 
 and the result is that I find it difficult to 
 be articulate. At my first visit about a 
 month ago the damage had been largely- 
 confined to the buildings in the Grande 
 Place, and those immediately surrounding 
 it. The streets were full of people, shops 
 were open in which I had been able to buy 
 post-cards, ammunition carts and motor 
 cars passed to and fro; everywhere there 
 was a general feeling of liveliness and 
 stir. 
 
 But when I returned this afternoon it 
 was like entering some city of the dead, 
 some ancient Egyptian or Assyrian town 
 which for centuries has lain under the 
 sand, a place so full of the splendour of 
 the past, but so forlorn and forsaken in 
 the present, that an overwhelming sad- 
 ness descends on all who enter its portals. 
 
 [82] 
 
With a Field Ambulance at Ypres 
 
 It was Indeed a City of the Dead. I 
 passed along many of those ghastly streets 
 before meeting a single soul, and then it 
 was only a small patrol of military police. 
 It was as if some mighty earthquake had 
 shaken the town In its grasp till It fell 
 Into nothingness, or as If rows of card 
 houses had been built, and some relentless 
 hand had swept away the bottom stories, 
 so that the entire superstructure had crum- 
 bled to the ground. In many places it was 
 not a question of bare, shattered walls, 
 but simply of confused piles of bricks and 
 rubbish. Not a sound of any kind or de- 
 scription v/as to be heard. In that city 
 of desolation there was not a footfall on 
 the pavement, not the rumble of a wheel 
 on the road, not the sound of a voice, or 
 the bark of a dog, or the bang of a door, 
 nothing but the silence of death. "The 
 cormorant and the bittern shall possess It, 
 the owl also and the raven shall inhabit 
 it, for he hath stretched out upon it the 
 line of confusion and the stones of empti- 
 ness." 
 
 Suddenly the silence was broken by a 
 sound, the wh-o-o-umph of big high explo- 
 sive. Apparently the process of destruc- 
 tion was not yet completed. I pushed on 
 
 [83] 
 
With a Field Ambulance at Ypres 
 
 rapidly until I came to Grande Place, and 
 here the contrast was simply overpower- 
 ing. A few weeks before the square was 
 full of bustle and life, civilians, officers on 
 horseback, transport wagons. Now it was 
 absolutely empty and deserted, and I 
 seemed to be alone in the city. Of the 
 busy shops not a trace was left. Look- 
 ing up one of the principal streets that 
 runs out of the squares I could see nothing 
 but crumbling, blackened walls, without 
 roofs or chimneys or doors or windows. In 
 one corner of the square was a smoulder- 
 ing heap of dead horses. Over every- 
 thing there hung the smell of mortar and 
 of death. I once said that in Ypres you 
 could almost *'hear the beating of the 
 wings of the Angel of Death." Standing 
 in that great, empty, silent square you felt 
 that the Angel of Death had passed over, 
 leaving nothing but that dreadful still- 
 ness. 
 
 The towers of the Cloth Hall and 
 Cathedral were still standing, but so shat- 
 tered that it looked as if the next shell 
 would cause them to crumble into dust. I 
 walked into the Cloth Hall, picking my 
 way amongst the piled masses of tumbled 
 masonry, and through it on to the 
 
 [84] 
 
THE CITY OF THE DEAD 
 
With a Field Ambulance at Ypres 
 
 Cathedral. Almost the whole roof of the 
 Cathedral was gone, and pigeons were fly- 
 ing round the ruins of the organ. Every 
 now and then some piece of masonry, bal- 
 anced some fifty feet up, would fall with 
 a crash which awoke strange echoes in 
 that intense stillness. The sacristry, of 
 which the roof and walls still remained, 
 was a scene of the wildest confusion. 
 Strewn in all directions were priests' vest- 
 ments, choir books, censors, and crucifixes, 
 whilst over everything lay a thick cover- 
 ing of the bright yellow dust of high ex- 
 plosives. By this time the square was be- 
 coming rather unhealthy, so I reluctantly 
 retraced my steps along the silent, echo- 
 ing streets, past the old fortified walls, 
 over the moat bright with water-lilies, 
 and took one last backward look at the 
 desolate city, around whose shattered 
 spires the German shells continued to 
 burst. 
 
 June 10, 1915, 
 This afternoon I had to visit the head- 
 quarters of a certain division close to 
 Ypres. The headquarters are in a delight- 
 ful seventeenth century chateau, which 
 looked a picture of perfect peace. A 
 long shaded drive led up to the house, 
 
 [8s] 
 
With a Field Ambulance at Ypres 
 
 which stood in the midst of a lovely old- 
 world garden. All round ran a moat in 
 which floated yellow water-lilies, and as 
 I slowly crossed the bridge and the per- 
 fume of the roses was wafted towards me, 
 the willows drooping gracefully into the 
 water brought the Backs at Cambridge be- 
 fore my eyes. Everywhere there was the 
 hum of bees, and here and there a gilded 
 butterfly hovered over a flower. 
 
 And yet it was not all peace. About 
 fifty yards away there was a huge shell 
 hole, which had been made two days ago. 
 A tree close to the house had been struck 
 down the previous night. A sentry with 
 fixed bayonet stood upon the bridge. In 
 a flower-bed just in front of the main door 
 were a number of dug-outs, round which 
 the roses bloomed, whilst through the 
 trees gleamed those wonderful shattered 
 spires of Ypres, with the afternoon sun 
 streaming full upon them. 
 
 My return journey took me within half 
 a mile of Ypres, and I could not resist the 
 temptation of paying another visit to the 
 Grande Place. Ypres is a place that one 
 never tires of, and that, like some irre- 
 sistible magnet, draws one back again and 
 again. Hosts of tourists and globe-trot- 
 [86] 
 
With a Field Ambulance at Ypres 
 
 ters will come to see It in future years, but 
 it will never mean the same to them as to 
 those who have seen it in its utter ruin, 
 and have listened to its awful silence and 
 to the shells bursting in its midst. And 
 they, and only they, can ever only truly 
 know Ypres the beautiful, Ypres the deso- 
 late. 
 
 June i8, 191 5. 
 One of the famous places on this part 
 of the front is Ploegstreet, commonly 
 called Plugstreet, Wood, and to-day I had 
 a chance for the first time of visiting it. 
 The classic wood, which is about two 
 miles long and a mile wide, is a perfect 
 human bee-hive. It runs along the side 
 of a steep slope, and all the way up the 
 slope are little huts built of logs cut from 
 the wood, and covered with moss and 
 creepers. These tiny huts have all sorts 
 of magnificent names, and Holland House, 
 Warwick House, Somerset House, and the 
 Carlton are all represented. One of the 
 features of the place is the network of 
 "corduroy" paths which run in every di- 
 rection. These paths are floored with 
 bundles of twigs and wattles, and make 
 very pleasant walking. Without them the 
 whole place would become a morass after 
 
 [87] 
 
With a Field Ambulance at Ypres 
 
 each rain-storm. The principal thorough- 
 fares bear such names as the Strand, Pic- 
 cadilly, Regent Street, and the Old Kent 
 Road, whilst in the centre of the wood you 
 come upon Hyde Park Corner. The wood 
 itself, where there was such desperate 
 fighting last winter, is a charming spot, 
 nested in by nightingales, and altogether 
 as delightful a piece of sylvan scenery as 
 you could wish to set eyes on. Anything 
 more unlike war it would be difficult to 
 imagine, and yet the trenches run along 
 the edge of the wood, now and then a bul- 
 let snaps off a branch, and if you seriously 
 annoyed the Bosche he would search the 
 place systematically with shrapnel or high 
 explosive. 
 
 In the evening I visited an aerodrome 
 near Bailleul. It is wonderfully interest- 
 ing to take your stand near the hangars 
 about six o'clock, and watch the birds 
 come flying home to roost. Away on the 
 horizon you see a tiny speck, then an- 
 other, and another. Rapidly they increase 
 in size, and soon you can hear the drone 
 of the engines. Now they are above the 
 aerodrome, sweeping round in great cir- 
 cles, ever lower and lower, till with a 
 final swoop they ahght on the ground and 
 [88] 
 
THE CHANCEL, YPRES CATHEDRAL 
 
With a Field Ambulance at Ypres 
 
 run over to the hangars. The pilot and 
 observer step out, and mechanics swarm 
 on to the machine, for before it goes up 
 again every nut and bolt and stay have 
 to be tested with the greatest care. And 
 now the mechanics are busy putting little 
 patches over sundry rents and tears In the 
 wings of one of the machines. These 
 rents were made by shrapnel bullets less 
 than an hour ago. I noticed that the wings 
 of some of the machines were covered 
 with little white patches, which told their 
 tale more eloquently than any words. 
 
 [89] 
 
WARM NIGHTS ROUND HELL CORNER 
 
 June 26, 191 5. 
 
 We have moved at last, and are now 
 at work on the Ypres salient. It was a 
 perfect evening when we left Neuve 
 Egllse. The shades of night were just 
 beginning to fall; thin wisps of mist crept 
 down the slopes into the valley; the smoke 
 from the chimneys rose in great tall col- 
 umns; not a breath of air stirred the thick 
 foliage of the trees; the occasional notes 
 of a late blackbird alone disturbed the 
 quiet of the evening. The men were all 
 drawn up in a field, with the long line of 
 wagons trailing out behind; and as we 
 moved off to the sound of one of the great 
 marching songs we knew that we were en- 
 tering on a new phase of our military life, 
 for we were exchanging the comparative 
 quiet of the line at Neuve EgHse for that 
 perilous salient, the very name of which 
 was enough to make the heart beat faster. 
 
 [90] 
 
With a Field Ambulance at Ypres 
 
 As the night darkened the mist grew 
 denser, and soon everything took on a 
 most mysterious appearance. We passed 
 little bivouacs in fields, and copses with 
 fires burning brightly in front of them; 
 camps consisting of rows of huts guarded 
 by motionless figures, who would suddenly 
 step into the middle of the road and give 
 a sharp challenge; and wagons of ammu- 
 nition drawn by mules passing from the 
 ammunition column far in the rear up to 
 the batteries a couple of miles behind the 
 firing line — all dim and mysterious in the 
 uncertain light. It was after one when 
 we reached the grass field which was our 
 destination, and, laying ourselves down on 
 the ground, we were soon wrapt in slum- 
 ber. 
 
 Last night work on the salient began. 
 Our camp is some miles behind Ypres, so 
 the plan is to take the stretcher bearers 
 up In motor ambulances to a point on the 
 other side of the town, and from there to 
 start the work of collecting. Another of- 
 ficer and I were in charge of the party on 
 the first night, and as I took my seat be- 
 side the driver of the first car, with the 
 long column of twelve cars stringing out 
 
 [91] 
 
With a Field Ambulance at Ypres 
 
 behind, I felt that we were probably in 
 for an interesting evening. 
 
 We soon struck the great road running 
 from Poperinghe through Vlamertinghe 
 to Ypres, a road which is at present one 
 of the most fascinating in the world. I 
 know of no highway which touches the 
 imagination to anything like the same ex- 
 tent. For along that road must pass 
 every person and every vehicle, all the 
 infantry, the guns, the ammunition, the 
 ration carts, the motor ambulances, the 
 stretcher bearers, bound for that famous 
 but perilous salient which bends forwards 
 like some great bow in front of Ypres. 
 In the gathering gloom we passed small 
 bodies of infantry moving up, guns with 
 ammunition limbers, supply wagons, and 
 one queer little vehicle like a farmer's trap 
 drawn by a mule, and piled up with a 
 varied assortment of articles which I could 
 not recognize in the uncertain light, but 
 which I suspect was furniture for officers' 
 dug-outs. And always you had the feel- 
 ing that ahead of you lay Ypres, and be- 
 yond was that terrible salient which was 
 going to absorb all this humanity, but 
 which would never give it all up again. 
 
 Presently we reached the outskirts of 
 
 [92] 
 
With a Field Ambulance at Ypres 
 
 Ypres, and drove slowly through the 
 streets with fifty yards between each car, 
 so that we should not lose them all if a 
 shell landed in the middle of the convoy. 
 As we passed through the Square the tow- 
 ers of the Cathedral and Cloth Hall 
 loomed mysteriously through the mist, like 
 the twisted and fantastic pinnacles of some 
 mountain peak which had been blasted by 
 fire and riven by ice before man and his 
 wars ever appeared on the globe. 
 
 Our route lay along the Menin road, 
 which runs through Hooge, the apex of 
 the salient. Now the Menin road leaves 
 the town at the Menin Gate. At this point 
 the road narrows, and crosses the moat 
 by a bridge, which is so sand-bagged that 
 only one vehicle can pass at a time. This 
 Is a very nasty little bit, for the Germans 
 know that all the traffic leaving Ypres has 
 to cross this bridge, and they have the 
 range to a yard. By day it is quiet 
 enough, but at night it is no place for lin- 
 gering. As ill luck would have it, when 
 we reached the bridge we found that a gun 
 was stuck half-way across, and it was im- 
 possible to pass. For ten minutes we had 
 to stay In that delightful spot without 
 cover of any kind, but it seemed a long, 
 
 [93] 
 
With a Field Ambulance at Ypres 
 
 long time. The type of shell used by the 
 Bosche for this little bit of work is the 
 "Whizz-bang," which travels at a very 
 high speed with a flat trajectory, and 
 almost before you have heard the shell 
 approaching it has burst — whizz-bang! 
 Whizz-bangs were going off all round, 
 lighting up the darkness in a highly the- 
 atrical manner, but one did not fully ap- 
 preciate the fine dramatic effect till after- 
 wards. Just before the bridge was cleared 
 there came a specially heavy shower of 
 these fireworks, and when at length the 
 way was open it was a fine sight to see 
 the wagons storming madly past in a wild 
 gallop to the comparative quiet of the road 
 beyond. 
 
 Some distance along the road we left 
 the ambulances in the shelter of some 
 ruined houses, and visited a certain house, 
 whose position need not be specified, which 
 was used as advanced headquarters by 
 several brigades. The object of our call- 
 ing there was to find out the number of 
 casualties reported from the trenches, and 
 also to ascertain the state of a certain 
 pleasant place some distance ahead, which 
 rejoiced in the name of Hell Fire Corner, 
 or Hell Corner for short. 
 
 [94] 
 
With a Field Ambulance at Ypres 
 
 The various headquarters were situ- 
 ated In the extensive cellars of the house, 
 which presented a remarkable sight. The 
 corridors were filled with men lying on the 
 floor fast asleep, many of them engineers 
 responsible for repairing the telephone 
 wires between headquarters and the 
 trenches. The numerous cellars were con- 
 verted into comfortable rooms, some used 
 as offices, with clerks, typewriters and 
 telephones all complete, others fitted up 
 as living rooms for the brigadiers and 
 brigade staffs. You could hear the shells 
 screaming and banging overhead, and the 
 shelter of the cellars seemed so acceptable 
 that one was loth to leave them. 
 
 Hell Corner was reported to be quiet 
 that night, and when we got there we 
 found that the report was accurate, so we 
 proceeded along the main road to Zille- 
 beke for some distance, till we reached the 
 footpath which runs up to the trenches. 
 One is very apt to miss this path on a dark 
 night, but fortunately just at the point 
 where it commences a dead horse lies in 
 the ditch. Judging from the physical 
 signs, it must have lain there for many 
 months, and, however dark the night, I 
 
 [95] 
 
With a Field Ambulance at Ypres 
 
 have never heard of any one who has 
 missed that landmark. 
 
 We were now entering the region of 
 bullets which come sweeping across from 
 the two sides of the salient, as well as from 
 the line Immediately In front. It is this 
 cross fire which is accountable for the 
 large number of casualties occurring in 
 parties trying to reach the comparative 
 shelter of the trenches, for the road is 
 without cover of any kind. When we 
 reached the ruin known as Sniper's Farm 
 a furious burst of rapid fire commenced 
 on our left, and in a moment the air was 
 literally humming. It was the warmest 
 five minutes we have had yet, but sud- 
 denly the firing died away, and thereafter 
 we only encountered the regulation amount 
 of lead. 
 
 We were bound for a place called the 
 Dump, where the wounded are collected. 
 It lies on the edge of a wood close behind 
 the trenches. The Dump is not a very 
 cheerful spot on a dark night. If you 
 have not much to do you listen to the bul- 
 lets whistling through the trees, snapping 
 off branches, and burying themselves in the 
 trunks, and the shells passing overhead on 
 their way to Hell Corner, and the Menin 
 [96] 
 
With a Field Ambulance at Ypres 
 
 Gate. There was one big German gun 
 which went off every three or four min- 
 utes, and sent an enormous shell roaring 
 through the air with very much the noise 
 that a train makes going through a tun- 
 nel. It seemed to go a tremendous dis- 
 tance, for the noise of the explosion came 
 back a long time afterwards as a very 
 faint sound indeed. We felt sorry for the 
 people at the place where the shell burst. 
 
 We left the Dump at midnight, and had 
 a pleasant journey back past Sniper's 
 Farm and the dead horse, round Hell 
 Corner, through the Menin Gate and 
 Ypres to our camp, which we reached at 
 2.30, just as dawn was beginning to break, 
 and the first lark was commencing his 
 morning song of praise. 
 
 This is a lovely, quiet, sunny morning, 
 and when I look back upon last night — 
 the darkness, the fireworks display at the 
 Menin Gate, the pandemonium around 
 brigade headquarters, the hail of bullets at 
 Sniper's Farm — it all seems unreal, im- 
 possible, unimaginable. 
 
 June 27, 1915. 
 
 Last night we had an even more inter- 
 esting time than on the previous night, and 
 our experiences were delightfully varied. 
 
 [97] 
 
With a Field Ambulance at Ypres 
 
 X was in charge of the party, whilst 
 
 I acted as his subaltern. There was a 
 full moon, and as we passed through 
 Ypres, the shattered city looked strangely 
 mournful and impressive. Perfect quiet 
 reigned at the Menin Gate, and we began 
 to think that we were in for an uneventful 
 evening. We were mistaken. 
 
 As we approached brigade headquar- 
 ters things began to liven up, and no 
 sooner had we entered than a shell 
 dropped in the courtyard and wounded 
 three men. We made our way along the 
 subterranean passages and entered the 
 brigadier's room. We had not been there 
 a couple of minutes when suddenly there 
 was a tremendous explosion outside the 
 skylight, a paper which X was read- 
 ing was torn from his hand, the lamp was 
 blown out, and the whole place plunged 
 in darkness. While the lamp was being 
 relit another shell struck the building 
 somewhere in the upper story. As the 
 officers' servants were quartered there, one 
 of the officers mounted the stairs to see 
 what had happened. He returned in a 
 state of great agitation, saying that, al- 
 though none of the men were hurt, most 
 of the bottles of wine which were stored 
 
 [98] 
 
With a Field Ambulance at Ypres 
 
 there had been broken. As we retreated 
 our steps along the passages we found 
 them filled with the smoke of shells, and 
 when we emerged into the open things had 
 become very lively indeed. The Germans 
 had apparently discovered that the place 
 was being used as headquarters, and were 
 evidently determined that it should never 
 be used as such again. Even as we 
 watched, an incendiary shell fell on our 
 end of the building, and a great burst of 
 flame showed that it had accomplished its 
 mission. 
 
 We had not proceeded far along the 
 Menin road when a shell burst on the road 
 a little way in front of us. When we 
 reached the spot I noticed something lying 
 In the ditch, and on stooping down found 
 it was the form of a man. Placing my 
 hand on his head, I found that it was cov- 
 ered with a hot, sticky fluid — evidently 
 blood. There was a fair-sized hole in the 
 back of the head where a bit of his skull 
 had been blown away. His heart still 
 beat, so we put on his first field dressing 
 and bandaged him up as best we could, 
 although of course we did not dare to 
 show a light of any description. The 
 Bosche often sends four shells on to one 
 
 [99] 
 
With a Field Ambulance at Ypres 
 
 spot before altering his range, and one 
 could not help wondering when number 
 two was going to arrive. The sense of ex- 
 pectation became positively painful. 
 
 When we got as far as Hell Corner we 
 found things comparatively quiet, for all 
 the shells were passing over our heads, 
 and the rest of the journey going to the 
 Dump was carried out in great comfort. 
 From the Dump we could see a great, red 
 glare on the Menin road, indicating the 
 fate that had overtaken our headquarters. 
 Our adventures for the night, however, 
 were not over. While the bearers were 
 
 getting the wounded together, X and 
 
 I had to proceed a little farther on. Now 
 
 X looks more like a German than 
 
 any Englishman I know; in a pickel haube 
 he would be a perfect Prussian. Result — 
 we find ourselves arrested as spies, and 
 marched off at the point of the bayonet. 
 Explanation is apt to be difficult and a 
 trifle confused in a dark wood at the top 
 of the Ypres salient, but eventually we 
 managed to clear our characters, and de- 
 parted on our way rejoicing. 
 
 [100] 
 
XI 
 
 A DINNER IN GOGGLES 
 
 July 3, IQ15. 
 
 Yesterday evening I rode over to the 
 artillery position for a dinner party which 
 
 A gave in his dug-out. We were a 
 
 party of six, and just managed to squeeze 
 into the place. We had reached the third 
 course when a shell exploded in our field, 
 followed by another and another. In a 
 few moments we experienced the most in- 
 tense irritation of the eyes, and the tears 
 coursed down our cheeks to such an ex- 
 tent that it was impossible to see what 
 we were eating. This was an evening 
 "straaf" with gas shells, a form of attack 
 which the Bosche is rather fond of using 
 against our artillery. At first it appeared 
 that the dinner party was going to be seri- 
 ously interfered with, but our host speed- 
 ily furnished each guest with a pair of 
 rubber-rimmed goggles, and the meal was 
 continued in comfort, for the action of 
 
 [lOl] 
 
With a Field Ambulance at Ypres 
 
 this form of gas is largely confined to 
 the eyes. The chemical used is probably 
 xylyl bromide. Soon, however, one of 
 our heavy guns close by began to reply to 
 the German battery, and each time the gun 
 fired, the acetylene lamp, by which alone 
 our dining-room was lighted, went out. 
 One of the guests was forthwith stationed 
 under the lamp with a box of matches, and 
 after that all went merry as a marriage 
 bell. I have seldom been present at a 
 more enjoyable dinner party, although the 
 begoggled appearance of the guests might 
 have appeared a little unusual to a 
 stranger suddenly introduced. 
 
 The variety of shells which one encoun- 
 ters in this district is extraordinary. Each 
 bears the particular name with which it 
 has been christened by that master of 
 nomenclature, Thomas Atkins, and when 
 he gives a name to a person or thing you 
 may as well save yourself the trouble of 
 trying to find anything more suitable. 
 The great H.E. (high explosive) shells, 
 fired as a rule from howitzers, used to be 
 called "Black Marias" or "coal boxes," 
 but nowadays they are almost universally 
 known as "crumps." In order to appre- 
 ciate the descriptive accuracy of this name 
 [102] 
 
With a Field Ambulance at Ypres 
 
 you should be near (but not too near) 
 one when it goes off. The sound is a 
 long-drawn kr-r-r-r-ump, or sometimes 
 who-o-o-umph. The "whizz-bang" whizz- 
 es and bangs, and the "pip-squeak," a 
 little harmless fellow more or less of the 
 nature of a squib, makes a little squeak 
 which merely arouses mirth if you do not 
 happen to be on the spot where the squeak 
 takes place. The "woolly bear" produces 
 a very pretty effect when bursting in the 
 air. But the queerest shell of all is known 
 as "Silent Sue" or "rubber heels." The 
 great howitzer shell gives you such ample 
 warning that you have almost time to go 
 home, should you wish to get out of the 
 way; in the case of the whizz-bang you can 
 fall on your face before the burst takes 
 place; but silent Sue gives no warning of 
 her approach. She merely arrives, and 
 that is the end of the matter. The nature 
 of that end depends entirely on whether 
 or not you happen to be on the spot to 
 receive her. 
 
 [103] 
 
XII 
 
 LAST DAYS AT THE FRONT 
 
 July i6, 191 5. 
 
 At last our work at Ypres is ended, 
 and we have moved a couple of miles 
 south, only, however, to find ourselves at 
 Hill 60 — out of the frying pan into the 
 fire. We live in a line of dug-outs in a 
 certain embankment, and bring the wound- 
 ed down the railway cutting which runs 
 right up to the famous hill. As the Ger- 
 mans hold the hill, and have a battery of 
 whizz-bangs which fire right down the en- 
 tire length of the cutting, the conditions 
 of work are apt at times to be unpleasant, 
 and we have had a number of men hit. 
 
 In front of my dug-out there is a nar- 
 row field, and exactly opposite is a little 
 red-roofed farm, which is used as brigade 
 headquarters. The Bosche must have dis- 
 covered this fact, and this afternoon about 
 five o'clock we had quite a pretty piece of 
 shelling. Fortunately I was at home, and 
 [104] 
 
With a Field Ambulance at Ypres 
 
 was able to sit in my doorway and watch 
 the show. The first shell dropped on the 
 far side of the farm, but the range was 
 shortened at once, and the next one landed 
 in the middle of the field, wounding one of 
 our men who was sitting at the door of his 
 dug-out. Soon shells began to pour In, 
 and for five or ten minutes things were 
 pretty lively. Presently they began to hit 
 the farm, and great clouds of red brick- 
 dust went up, but no serious damage was 
 done. The brigade staff retired Into cel- 
 lars and dug-outs, and only two men were 
 wounded. The shooting was not up to 
 the usual Bosche standard, for the farm 
 was only hit three times, but for all that 
 the field was no place for a promenade for 
 some time. The worst of It was that this 
 little performance came on just as we were 
 beginning to prepare tea, and as our 
 cooking-place Is on the far side of the field, 
 we had to put off our meal for half an 
 hour. 
 
 A few nights ago H distinguished 
 
 himself. He found the narrow path com- 
 pletely blocked by a wagon which had 
 come to grief, and which was toppling on 
 
 the extreme edge of a steep bank. H 
 
 was unable to get his ambulance past, so 
 
 [los] 
 
With a Field Ambulance at Ypres 
 
 he ordered his men to push the offending 
 wagon right over the bank. Needless to 
 say there was no officer in charge of the 
 wagon. When this had been successfully 
 accomplished, he enquired what was in 
 the wagon, and was told that it was full 
 of bombs ! Truly, as old Blougram said, 
 we live upon ''the dangerous edge of 
 things." 
 
 July 20, 1915. 
 
 For weeks and months we have lived 
 surrounded by death, seeing it every day, 
 and yet you never truly realise what it 
 means till it comes home to you in a really 
 personal way. A few yards from my dug- 
 out lived one who was very dear to me, 
 a fellow of most singular charm, an ath- 
 lete of international reputation, one of 
 those men who make sunshine in the 
 world. Yesterday he was standing with 
 several men by the water-cart, when a shell 
 burst close to the group and killed my 
 friend instantaneously. And so that is 
 the end of it all. I can only think of some 
 lines I came across a short time ago : 
 
 O'er countless mounds on the wide grey plain 
 The crosses stand against the sky; 
 
 For requiem, the sullen roar 
 
 Of cannon, as the wind sweeps by. 
 
 [106] 
 
With a Field Ambulance at Ypres 
 
 And he lies there ; why do we weep ? 
 God giveth our beloved — sleep. 
 
 What did we hope for him we loved? 
 
 Life full and fair, success, renown? 
 Nay, greater fame can no man win 
 
 Than a life laid nobly down 
 For England's needs; a soldier's death; 
 God giveth him — the Victor's wreath ! 
 
 What matters Time, if he fulfilled 
 God's promise in the day of need? 
 
 Outweighs a hundred empty years 
 One glorious hour, one noble deed. 
 
 We asked full life, O God, of Thee, 
 
 And Thou didst give — Eternity! 
 
 August 9, 191 5. 
 To-day a desperate fight is raging at 
 Hooge, the apex of the salient. Or rather 
 it was raging, for by now we have captured 
 the positions which were our objective, 
 and have beaten off the German counter- 
 attacks. The attack was timed to start 
 at 4 A.M. and at 2.15 the artillery prepa- 
 ration commenced. And what a com- 
 mencement that was! It was as if we 
 listened to the opening bars of some sub- 
 lime symphony blared out upon the trum- 
 pets with accompanying crash of drums 
 and cymbals, as in the opening of Beetho- 
 ven's C minor symphony. About a dozen 
 
 [107] 
 
With a Field Ambulance at Ypres 
 
 9. 2^8 opened the ball with one stupendous 
 roar, followed by a hush in which no sound 
 could be heard but the shriek and whine 
 of the shells as they hurtled through the 
 air; and then with a crash the full orches- 
 tra joined in, with a running accompani- 
 ment on the fiddles that rose and fell, but 
 never ceased, for the men working the 
 field guns had unlimited food for those 
 hungry mouths. And over all came the 
 diapason of the great organ as the heavi- 
 est guns in the army volleyed and thun- 
 dered upon those trenches that had to be 
 taken at all costs. The whole air was 
 filled with the whine and sough of the 
 great shells, as the whole sky was lit by 
 the fearful light of those great tongues 
 of flame. Along the horizon there was 
 nothing but the glare of bursting shells, 
 spouts of flame from the guns, and end- 
 less star-lights going up along the whole 
 line. At four o'clock the bombardment 
 slackened for a moment, as our men swept 
 forward to the attack; but at once the 
 guns started off again, this time with 
 lengthened range, so as to catch the sup- 
 ports that were certain to be hurried up. 
 
 As dawn gradually brightened in the 
 east our aeroplanes began to arrive upon 
 
 [108] 
 
With a Field Ambulance at Ypres 
 
 the scene In order to guide the guns In the 
 work of destruction. The Incessant can- 
 nonade lasted tin 7.30, and then gradu- 
 ally died away. 
 
 August 15, igis. 
 
 To-morrow I leave France. I have just 
 come In from a walk along the Ypres road. 
 It Is a dark, still night. The roads are 
 deserted; not a hght Is to be seen In any 
 of the cottages; In the next field you can 
 hear the restless movements of the horses 
 of an ammunition column. A quiet, silent 
 countryside. But, afar off, the star-shells 
 are shooting up like great white rockets; 
 the rattle of a machine-gun sounds faint 
 and thin; and every now and then the 
 deep-toned b-o-o-m of a great gun floats 
 through the stillness of the night like the 
 solemn knell of the passing bell. The fas- 
 cination of these sounds of war is great, 
 how great you only realise when you are 
 about to leave them. 
 
 It is strange, almost Incomprehensible, 
 but to-night I must admit that I am filled 
 with melancholy. Often and often you 
 wish that you had never set foot In this 
 stricken land, where death stalks beside 
 you by day, and takes you by the arm as 
 you walk the roads at night, and yet the 
 
 [109] 
 
With a Field Ambulance at Ypres 
 
 life has a peculiar fascination of its own. 
 All pleasure depends on contrast, and the 
 contrast between the discomfort of a 
 bullet-swept road and the shelter of a dug- 
 out, between Hell Corner at night and the 
 quiet safety of the camp next morning, 
 provides an intensity of pleasure which 
 only those who have experienced it can 
 realise. 
 
 If, as Aristotle says, tragedy purifies 
 the mind through terror and pity, much 
 more does war thoroughly purge it of all 
 dross. For war is the great tester; it 
 brings out the best that is in a man, even 
 as also it brings out the worst that is in 
 him. "The beauty and the terror of the 
 world" have never held so much meaning 
 for me as during these past months. And 
 to-morrow I am going to leave it behind, 
 perhaps for ever. Farewell, O Ypres, 
 farewell, Menin Gate, Hell Corner, the 
 Dump, and Kemmel Hill, a long farewell ! 
 
 the end 
 
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