ly six
feet thick. Here the dangerous cases were taken off and attended to. The
last I saw of the corporal was after they had cut off his coat at the
seams and the doctors were taking a piece of wire out of his chest. While
I was waiting a chaplain asked me if I would like a cup of coffee or some
whiskey, realising that it would take some time to get the coffee made I
had some more whiskey.

I was given two more tags, which this time were tied on buttons at the top
of my jacket. I stayed here about two hours, then I was sent to a clearing
hospital. It was here that I met the first nurses. They were two fine,
splendid women who were wearing the scarlet hoods of the British Regular
Army nurse. They were both strong and quite capable of handling a man,
even if he became delirious. One of them quickly got me into bed. I
apologized for my terribly dirty state, but I was told that it made no
difference; they were used to it. To be between clean sheets again was
wonderful. I felt I wanted to go to sleep forever. Suddenly a roar, and a
terrible explosion. The hospital was being bombed; a bomb had dropped
within a hundred yards of my tent. This was the German reprisal for our
bombing Houltholst. They deliberately bombed a hospital. The doctor at
this hospital next day looked at my hand and said in a nonchalant way,
"Looks as though you will lose it." At that time it didn't strike me as a
great loss to lose a hand, even if it was my "painting hand."

The hospital train of the next day was crowded and the nurse in charge of
my coach was named Keene. We tried in the little spare time she had to see
if we couldn't work out our genealogy and find out if we were even
remotely connected, but before we did we came to the station of Etaples
and then went to the Duchess of Westminster Hospital at Latouquet. Here I
was operated on. A piece of Krupp's steel was taken out of my hand and a
rubber drainage tube inserted instead. The Duchess used to come round a
great deal and won everybody's affection. She used to sit on my bed and
talk to me about pleasant things. So unlike many people who visit
hospitals and ask the patients silly war questions, such as: "How does it
feel to be wounded?" or "Which hurts more, a bayonet or a shell wound?"
One exasperated Tommy, when asked if the shell hit him, said: "Naw, it
crept up behind and bit me."

FINIS

***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CRUMPS, THE PLAIN STORY OF A CANADIAN WHO WENT**