Experiences at a Base Hospital in
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48
THE YPRES TIMES
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MY first experience at a base hospital was at Versailles, in August, 1914. The
hotel Trianon Palace had been converted into a hospital. The rooms
(which in 1919 were used for the compiling of the peace terms) were full
of terribly wounded men, dying of gangrene and tetanus.
I was one of a party of nurses returning from St. Nazaire, where we had been
sent during the retreat from Mons. We were awaiting orders at the Reservoir
Hotel, and preparing to go to bed, when a message came from the matron of a
hospital, asking us to go and help. A large convoy of wounded were coming in,
and every bed was full. The ambulances were streaming along as we made our
way to the Trianon Palace Hotel.
It was a curious sightalmost unbelievablethe brightly lighted hall, scarlet
carpeted stairs (there had been no time to remove the carpets), stretcher after
stretcher being carried in with wounded men caked in blood and mud, some of whom
had lain out for days before they could be got at. Beautiful bedrooms were filled
with hospital beds, all occupied, and in the spaces between the beds' were men lying
on stretchers, even in the corridors, and everywhere where there was room.
What a night it was! Had we only stopped to think, the work would have
seemed hopeless. It was no easy matter to get their dried, caked clothes cut off,
and the men washed and feda drink being all that the majority were able to take.
Poor things! How splendid and amazing they were! Not a grumble from one
of them; but when a nurse would be going for a drink for some of them, all the
hands would be stretched out, bring me one, too, nurse." Not a word as long
as they saw that you were busy. Their wonderful patience and unselfishness never
ceased to amaze one.
At 4 a.m. matron sent us to bed; orders for us to proceed to Boulogne the
next day had been received.
We arrived at Boulogne on October 30th, 1914. The place gave us the im
pression of being a seething mass of ambulances, wounded men. doctors and
nurses; there seemed to be an unending stream of each of them. All the hotels
were hospitals, which gave one a horrid feeling of disaster. No one of whom we
inquired could direct us to where No. 14 Stationary Hospital (to which we had to
report) was situated. Eventually we met a matron who was able to direct us. It
was a pouring wet night, and we drove up to the hill from Boulogne to Wimereux
in funny little Victorias," with a kind of leather apron over our heads. An
endless stream of ambulances was slowly making its way in the same direction.
No. 14 Stationary Hospital was found to be in a large hotel on the sea-front
at Wimereux. The Officer Commanding was in the hall receiving patients. He
directed us to the top floor, where the nurses had their quarters. Every place was
packed with sick and wounded lying on the flooryou stepped between them, and
over them, to get along. As soon as we could get into our indoor uniform we
went straight into the wards. I relieved the matron in the theatre, where she
was busily working. Operations went on unceasingly. As fast as one patient