ring eyes and blue,
distorted faces of suffocating men. They thronged the darkness in ever
increasing numbers and then they arranged themselves into a kind of
gigantic wheel that began to turn slowly round and round. And suddenly I
became conscious of a grief so intense that it seemed almost like
physical pain, but weariness soon mastered every other sensation and I
fell into a dreamless sleep.

V

WALKING WOUNDED

"The war is doing me good as though it were a bath-cure."

(FIELD MARSHAL VON HINDENBURG.)

Some had dirty bandages round their heads. Some had their arms in
slings. Others had hands so thickly swathed that they looked like the
huge paws of polar-bears. Many were caked with mud and wore tattered
uniforms. Some limped or hobbled along. Others could walk unaided. Some
leaned heavily on our shoulders and some we had to carry on our backs.

As each one entered the waiting-room--a little wooden shed opposite the
swing-doors of the operating theatre--we took off his boots and tunic
and made him sit down in front of the glowing stove. From time to time
an orderly would shout across from the theatre:

"Next man!"

And we would take the "next man" over and help him to mount one of the
tables.

They were all very quiet at first and many sat with bowed heads. Some
were dreading the operation, others, who were not badly wounded, looked
bright and cheerful, as well they might, for they were going to have a
holiday, perhaps in England, but anyhow at the Base, where they would
enjoy a respite from danger, hardship, and misery--a respite that might
last for weeks. And in the meantime the war might come to an end--one
could never tell.

Two infantrymen with packs and rifles passed by. They had been
discharged from the C.C.S. and were going to rejoin their units. They
stopped outside the waiting-room for a few minutes and looked enviously
at the wounded sitting round the stove inside, and murmured with deep
conviction: "Lucky devils."

A patient came out of the theatre with bandaged arm. He held a large,
semi-circular piece of iron in his hand.

"Is that what they took out o' yer arm?" said one of the infantrymen.

"Yes--decent bit, isn't it!"

"Gorblimy, I wish I could 'ave a bit like that, in me knee or somewhere,
to lay me up for months."

His comrade added in a voice full of hopeless longing:

"I wish I were in his shoes. Anything to keep out of that hell up the
line!"

"'E's a sure Blighty,