for the front again, and many glad of it, if only to be men in
a man's world again. One of the nurses spoke of some of the others she
had known. One man slashed his hand with his knife in the hope of
staying behind. Even the bravest must gather themselves together before
the leap. Only those who have seen what modern guns can do know how much
to fear them.

"For a week or so after they come in lots of them are dazed; they just
lie there scarcely stirring. All that part of it--the shock to their
nerves--we see more of than the doctors do. When the word comes to go
out again they have all the physical symptoms of intense nervous
excitement, even nausea sometimes." The train came at last--two long
sections of sleeping-cars. An officer stepped off, clicked his heels,
and saluted, and the orderlies started unloading the men. Those who
could walk at all were helped from the doors; the others--men with
broken hips, legs in casts, and so on--were passed out of the windows on
stretchers held over the orderlies' heads. In the receiving-ward they
were set down in rows before the three tables, most of them clutching
their papers as they came. Each man gave his name and regiment, and
such particulars, and the address of some one of his family to whom
notice could be sent. It was one clerk's duty to address a post-card
telling his family of his condition and that he was in the hospital.

These cards were already ruled off into columns in each of which the
words "Lightly wounded," "Wounded," "Severely wounded," "Ill," "Very
ill" were printed in nine of the languages spoken in Austria-Hungary.
The clerk merely had to put a cross on the proper word. Here, for
instance, is the Lightly wounded column, in German, Hungarian, and the
other dialects: "Leicht verwundet, Konnyen megse-besult, Lehce ranen,
Lekko raniony, Lecko ranenki, Leggiermente Jcrzto, Lako ranjen, Lahko
ranjen, Usor ranit."

A number were Russians--fine, big, clear-eyed fellows with whom these
genuine "Huns" chatted and laughed as if they were their own men. On
one stretcher came a very pale, round-faced, little boy about twelve,
with stubbly blond hair clipped short and an enchanting smile. He had
been carrying water for the soldiers, somebody said, when a piece of
shrapnel took off one of his feet. Possibly he was one of those little
adventurers who run away to war as boys used to run away to sea or the
circus. He seemed entirely at home with these men,