e unattended? How I
longed to have my clothes removed! And what of my wound--how much
longer must I go before it was attended to? And what was happening to
it all this time?

I heard some voices near me speaking in German. Now was the time I
would test that magic word, and see what would happen. Removing the
blankets from my face, and lifting my arm to attract attention, I
whispered hoarsely:

"Hauptmann!"

Some one stooped down over me, examined my shoulder-strap, and said,
"Huhzo!" He then gave an order, and my stretcher was again picked up,
and I was carried up-stairs to a room reserved for officers.

That "Open Sesame" served me in good stead on several occasions.

But the hospital at St. Quentin was a horrible place. There was a
Frenchman in the ward who was raving mad, and between his yells and
shrieks of laughter, the moaning of the wounded, and the fitful
awakenings from my own delirium I spent a most unhappy time. I think I
must have been there about two days, and on the morning after my
arrival I was sensible for a while.

Adjoining the ward and only separated by an open doorway was the
operating-room, where first operations were taking place hurriedly.
The scene was something I can never forget. One by one we were being
taken in, and the shrieks of pain which followed were too shocking for
description. To hear strong men howl with pain is agonising enough;
but to hear them shriek, and for those shrieks to fall upon the ears
of nerve-broken men awaiting their turn just outside the open door was
terrifying, appalling.

As the shrieks subsided into weakened groans the stretcher would come
back into the ward, and the next man be moved in; and so we waited in
an agony of suspense, horror, and dread as nearer and nearer we came
to our turn.

I do not wish to harrow my readers' feelings any more by describing
how I felt when my stretcher was at last lifted and I was laid on the
operating-table. I could not see the bloodiness of my surroundings,
but I murmured to myself, as I had occasion to do on subsequent and
similar occasions:

"Thank God I'm blind."

There was a nurse at St. Quentin whose devotion and humanity will be
long remembered by the many British and French wounded officers who
have passed through that ward. In my half-dazed condition I seemed to
have an idea that she was some sort of angel, whose gentle voice and
comforting words were so soothing to the wounded, and inspired us with
confid