Chapter 8

Hospital Experiences.

After being gassed and wounded, I was taken immediately to a dressing station, where the wound in my leg was carefully, but hurriedly dressed and my throat was swabbed with a preparation used in all hospitals to relieve the severe burning in the throat caused by gas. Of all the unpleasant experiences that I had at war, this throat swabbing was the worst. It seemed to me like the surgeon who performed this act had found in my throat a bottomless pit, and as the swab went up and down my burning esophagus, I suffered great agony. Although I knew this treatment was necessary, if I was to recover speedily from the gas burns, I could scarcely endure it.

As soon as the wound in my leg was dressed and my throat doctored, I was examined as to my physical condition by a Major, who labeled me with a tag upon which was written, "tuberculosis." This, of course, was very annoying and caused me considerable worry. It was certainly not a pleasant word for one to receive when lying in the condition that I then was. But I afterwards learned, much to the relief of my mind, that this tag had been put on me by the Major as a warning to the next surgeon into whose hands I should fall, against tuberculosis. In other words, in my condition, it was necessary to take precautions against the white plague.

I experienced great pains in my throat and lungs from the gas and seemed to be choking. My strength was entirely gone, and I was about as miserable as one could be. I could not utter a sound and any attempt to speak only increased my pain. I relate these facts about the agony that I suffered simply to show what a terrible weapon of war this deadly phosgene gas is, and to emphasize the villainy of the Hun government in using it after having agreed with other nations years before not to do so.

I was placed on a cot and made as comfortable as possible under the circumstances and was awaiting a motor truck to take me to a base hospital. On all sides of me were other wounded and gassed boys. Some of them were exceedingly jolly and talkative, notwithstanding their pitiable condition. I remember one boy in particular, who was about my own age. He was going over on a raid and was shot through the temple. The bullet entered on one side an inch or two above the eye, and went straight through, passing out the other side at about the same distance above the eye. It passed through apparently, without striking the brain, and the boy was fully conscious while the wound was dressed and seemed to be quite jolly. I watched the surgeon shave both sides of his head around the wound to prevent infection, and then carefully dress his head, without administering any anesthetic. I marveled at the boy's condition, with such a nasty wound, but what surprised me still more was several months later when I was on board ship on my way home, there was this same boy with his wound entirely healed. Two little white scars, one on each temple, were the only marks that told of his awful experience.

From the dressing station I was taken to a field hospital, about fifteen kilometers to the rear, and there placed in a ward in a tent. The purpose of the field hospital is to treat soldiers who are too severely wounded to be taken to base hospitals. My wound was again examined, cleaned and dressed and again the terrible swab went its depth. About 4 o'clock that afternoon I was loaded into another stretcher on an ambulance and taken to Base Hospital 51 at Toul. The distance from the field hospital to Toul was about twenty-five kilometers and we did not reach there until about 9 o'clock that night. The trip was a rough one, and I suffered greatly. I positively believe my recovery would have been much faster, had I not been transferred so hastily to this hospital. I was placed in a ward in a large hospital built of stone. In this hospital the wounded men were classified in accordance with the nature of their wounds. I was not long in this hospital when a nurse took charge of me, and again, I received that awful swab. Each time it seemed worse than before and how I dreaded the time when it was to be given again! But much to my surprise and pleasure, my treatment was changed at this hospital. My chest and throat were massaged by the nurse with an oil that brought me immediate relief. This nurse continued this treatment several times a day and night and I began to feel a little better. All this time, however, I was unable to utter a word, and I began to wonder whether or not my speech was permanently injured. In my predicament, however, I soon learned the sign language. It is remarkable how well a man can make himself understood merely by the use of his hands. I had no trouble at all in making my wants known. I was in the base hospital at Toul for fourteen days and all of that time I coughed up great chunks of solid matter and mouthfuls of blood, as the result of the burning that I had received. After the seventh day, the nurse stopped the use of the swab, much to my delight, but continued the more appreciated massage.

On the morning of my fifteenth day at this hospital, I was able to make my wants known by a faint whisper, and on that day I was transferred to another hospital. I was placed in a motor car and taken to the railroad station, about half a mile distant and there loaded on to a French hospital train, our destination being Tours. Before the train pulled out of the station, American Red Cross workers, always in evidence in every city in France, came and made us as comfortable as possible. They gave us coffee and doughnuts, hot chocolate and cigarettes, and their kindness was greatly appreciated by all the wounded on that train.

All the members of the crew of the train were French, and there was also several French surgeons aboard. They all showed much interest in the American troops. They asked us many questions about America and the American people. The fighting qualities of our boys were highly praised by them. The members of the crew in particular were interested about working conditions in America, and were anxious to know whether or not they would have any difficulty in getting work if they came to this country. They showed plainly that they had been so favorably impressed by Americans in France that they had a longing to become a part of this great nation.

It took us a day and a night to reach Tours. The journey was a tiresome one and we were glad when the train finally stopped at Tours. Again we were put on motor ambulances and taken to Base Hospital 7, in the suburbs of the city. We were immediately given a physical examination, and all our personal effects, including our clothes, were taken from us, except a few toilet articles. We were then given a bath robe, a towel and soap and taken to a warm shower. It was with great delight that we got under that shower and enjoyed a thorough bath. The showers were of American make and were built large enough so that twenty-five or thirty men could take a bath at a time. After the shower we were given a solution to rub on our bodies for the purpose of killing the cooties. The time had come, I am glad to say, when we and the cooties, must forever part. But the cootie in the front line trenches was not altogether an enemy. That may sound strange, but the fact is, when we were fighting the cooties and chasing them out of our dug-outs, our minds were not on our more serious troubles and we were unmindful of the dangers that surrounded us. So there were times when the cooties were really friends and they kept our minds and hands occupied.

After the bath, we were taken back to the ward and were not allowed to have any clothes for three days. This was probably so there would be no chance of a stray cootie getting into our new outfit. When three days had elapsed, however, we were given slips, which we filled out in accordance with our needs. When I got back into a uniform, life at the hospital was more pleasant. With the aid of crutches I was able to move around a little and to enjoy the company of other boys. The time was spent in playing cards, light conversation, and other amusements. We kept our minds off our rough experiences at the front.

I had an unusually pleasant experience soon after I was at Tours. A Red Cross nurse came to our ward to take orders for our small wants, such as candy, cigarettes, tobacco, writing paper and such articles. She spoke a few words to me and then passed on. It was the first time I had spoken to an American girl since leaving the United States. A few minutes later one of the boys told me she was from the West and then one said he thought she was from California. I could not wait until she came to bring our supplies, but immediately started out to look her up, so anxious was I to see and talk with a Californian. I found her and told her I was from California and that I had heard that she was from that State, too. To my great pleasure and surprise, I learned that she was from Sacramento, my home town, and that she was acquainted with my folks and knew of me. Her name is Miss Mae Forbes, and after her patriotic work in France, she is home again in Sacramento. One must experience the delight of meeting a charming young woman from his own town, in far-off France, and under the circumstances that I did, to appreciate my feelings at this time. It is an experience that I will always remember as one of the most happy of my life. It was only a few days later that I made my way, without the aid of crutches this time, to the American Red Cross station where I again met Miss Forbes and had a long and pleasant chat with her about California. Miss Forbes introduced me to the other members of the station, and from that time until I left Tours, it was like my home. I spent many a pleasant hour there and its memories will always be dear to me.

I was in the hospital at Tours on November 11th, when the armistice was signed. There was a great commotion in my ward when we first learned the news. Most of the boys were glad that the war was over and that the lives of so many boys still at the front had been spared. Others said they hoped the end had not come so suddenly, as they were anxious to recover and get back into the front line to take another crack at the despicable Huns.

At this time I was gaining strength rapidly and was able to get around fairly well. I was given a pass out of the hospital, and with two other boys who were fairly strong, we went into the business district of Tours to witness the celebration. It was like a great city gone mad. The streets were crowded with civilians, and everybody was waving flags. Most people had a French flag in one hand, and the flag of one of the Allied nations in the other. The American flag predominated above all other Allied flags; in fact, the people of Tours seemed to be very partial to America. "Vive l'Amerique" they shouted, "La guerre est fini." They are very emotional and demonstrative. They lined the sidewalks of the business streets, waving their flags and shouting in their native tongue, while an American Marine Band playing patriotic music, marched up one street and down another. It was a general holiday and no business was done that day, and but very little for several days thereafter. All American soldiers in the city were lionized. When a group of enthusiastic Frenchmen would get hold of a buddy, they would insist on taking him to a cafe and buying the most expensive of wines. If we could have conserved all the liquor the French were willing to buy for us that day, dry America would not worry us.

I was seated on a bench in one of the parks watching the demonstration and contrasting it with the probable demonstrations in American cities on that day, when two flags, one French and the other American, dropped over my shoulders. I straightened up and the next thing I knew I was strongly clasped in the arms of a beautiful young French girl, elegantly dressed and bewitchingly charming. She kissed me fervently on each cheek. The sensation was pleasant, but it was rather embarrassing inasmuch as it was in full view of hundreds of people who were celebrating. If the shades of evening had been falling, the spot more secluded and the number reduced to two, it would have been more to my American tastes. However, I arose, conscious that I was blushing, and offered the beauty my hand. She could scarcely speak a word of English and I scarcely a word of French, but we managed to make each other understand that it was a pleasurable greeting. She was soon on her way joyfully waving her flags, and I--well, I charged myself up with a lost opportunity for not being more proficient in the polite use of the French language.

We remained in the city until 9:30 that evening, and the people were still celebrating. And they kept it up for several days and several nights, so great was their joy in knowing that the war was over and that the enemy had been crushed.

My stay in Tours gave me some opportunity of seeing this ancient city. Tours lies in the heart of the Loire Valley, which is the garden of France. It is 145 miles southwest of Paris by rail and is on the left bank of the Loire River. It is an exceedingly old city and has an interesting history. There are numerous castles and chateaux in the vicinity, which in peace times are visited annually by thousands of tourists. It contains a number of ancient buildings of interest. In normal times it is no doubt one of the most interesting cities in France.

The hospital in which I was treated was a very large one, in fact, it was a great institution of many buildings. It contained forty-five wards of fifty cots each. It covered a large area and had every comfort for the men, such as a motion picture house, library, reading room, etc.

After I had been there about five weeks and had regained much of my physical strength, the authorities in charge began to classify the boys, either for further duty, or for shipment home. All were anxious to be put in class D, which meant the United States--God's country. Nobody wanted class A, which meant further duty with the army of occupation, and another year at least in Europe. It seemed very much like a lottery, as the boys who were able to do so, walked up and received their classification. I was exceedingly happy when I was given class D, which meant that nothing would stop me from seeing "home and mother."

After being classified, we were notified to make ourselves ready for a trip to the coast. Although we were not told that we were going home, we knew that the good old U. S. A. was our ultimate destination. So I received a pass and made my last visit to the business district of Tours for the purpose of purchasing some souvenirs of France for the women folks at home. The men I had already remembered with rings, made during my convalescing days at the hospital out of French two-franc pieces. I might add that ring making was a favorite occupation of the patients and we spent many pleasant moments working them out sitting on our cots, while a group of interested buddies would sit around and watch and comment.

I found it no easy matter to make my purchases. In the first place, the French merchants, knowing that many of the American boys had money to spend, asked about four prices for everything, and, secondly, the French methods of doing business are quite different from our own. But by spending practically the entire day, by attempting Hebraic methods in purchasing, and by pretending that I had only a few francs to spend, I managed to spend about $25 in buying the few things that I wanted to bring home.

I was then ready to leave, whenever Uncle Sam was willing to take me.