CHAPTER XVI

AT THE FRENCH HOSPITAL

They were soon at the border of the French field hospital. It was only natural that Thad and his comrades should survey the scene with a wonder closely approaching awe. They had passed through a good many strange experiences during the past two years, as we happen to know, but never before had their eyes taken in such a remarkable picture as that now spread out before them.

The French Red Cross Corps had picked out this position for the emergency hospital with an eye both to convenience and safety. While it was close enough to the battle line to prove of vast service, and wounded men could be carried to the operating tables without much loss of precious minutes; at the same time it was at an angle where the numerous white flags with the sacred Red Cross might easily be seen from the German lines.

No cannon were allowed near by, so that every excuse for shells dropping in that sector had apparently been avoided.

It was a busy scene that the boys gazed upon. Streams of men with stretchers passed back and forth, those coming in bearing burdens and those going out after others.

Ambulances, vans and all manner of wheeled vehicles were moving this way and that, loading up with their human freight that was to be transported forthwith to the hospitals of Paris and beyond.

Bustling surgeons could be seen. Bumpus quailed at the sight of their stained aprons. He felt as though he were in close touch with a butcher shop; but not by a word or a whimper did he disclose the dreadful feeling that so nearly overwhelmed his rapidly beating heart.

In the midst of all this apparent confusion haste seemed to be the only predominant requisite. The wounded were streaming in so fast that only superficial attention could be paid to individual cases. Machine-like work was the order of the day. Army surgeons, when the battle is on, cannot appear humane. They must do their necessary work methodically, for they are engaged in a wholesale business where sympathy can have little part.

But the boys did not mean to stand there gaping for long. Thad and Allan were resolved to find some part in the great work of serving suffering humanity. This was a task that even neutrals could engage in. They would just as readily assist in binding up the wounds of a German prisoner as a French hero; it made no difference.

So Thad led the way into the midst of those grewsome sights, dodging several moving vans that were coming or going, their drivers shouting at the top of their voices, for even here the roar of the raging battle was strenuous.

Perhaps Bumpus would have liked to stand a bit and cast his eyes far across the open country to where the smoky pall was hovering and the opposing armies struggled in a death grip; but Thad meant business, and the time for watching stirring events had temporarily passed.

The field hospital had been laid out on rising ground. This was to allow the enemy a full chance to mark the spot, so that their guns might not drop shells in that particular quarter.

“Listen!” exclaimed Allen just then, “some one is talking good old United States over yonder, Thad! Think of our running across an American here of all places, will you?”

“It must be one of the surgeons!” the scout leader declared. “Perhaps he was in Paris at the time and volunteered to come out and work under the Red Cross. That is always permissible, you know. Even neutrals can help the wounded, which is why we’re here right now. There, I’ve placed the party, and from the way others consult him I guess he’s the head surgeon, in this section of the hospital, anyway.”

Of course it was the sensible thing for Thad to do to try and get in touch with the English-speaking operator, who would much more readily understand their desire to do something than a French doctor could.

The busy surgeon looked up at their approach. He was, of course, considerably surprised at seeing three lads clad in faded khaki; a bustling field hospital did not seem to be just the place for youngsters of this type. His astonishment jumped to a still higher notch, however, when the foremost boy spoke to him in English.

“We are American Boy Scouts, sir, who by accident happen to be caught over here between the two armies. One of our number has even now taken an ambulance on to Paris, for the regular driver was sorely wounded. The rest of us fixed up his hurts and sent him on board a loaded van. That gave us the idea we might make ourselves useful while trapped here between the lines. We’ve been trained as Scouts to give first aid, you see, sir, and if you could tell us what to do we’d be ready to start in right away.”

There happened to be a temporary lull in business. The hard-worked head surgeon could afford to give these remarkable boys a minute or two of his precious time. His grim face broke into a half-smile, as though their coming had been in the nature of a breath of fresh air.

“Good for you, my boy,” he said energetically. “I’m also an American, from New York City. Just now I’m devoting my whole energies to looking after these poor fellows who come out of the shambles; no matter on which side they fought, it is all the same to me. A surgeon has no right to be partisan at a time like this. To be sure I can make you useful, for we are suffering from a lack of attendants.”

He immediately assigned them to a certain work that he expected they could attend to, and which in a measure would relieve his assistants. A sudden fresh rush of new patients caused the head surgeon to leave the three scouts to their work; but ever and anon as he labored feverishly he found occasion to glance toward where Thad, ably backed by Allan and Bumpus, was bandaging less severe wounds, and from the gleam in the surgeon’s eye and the faint smile on his face it looked as though he felt highly pleased with their methods of procedure.

Thad put his whole soul into his work. His previous experience profited him now to a certain extent, and by the time half an hour had passed he felt as though he were a veteran along the line of wrapping up cuts and abrasions.

Even Bumpus no longer felt that horrid squeamishness such as had attacked him at first. They say “familiarity breeds contempt,” but while this would hardly apply in the present case, at least it hardened the stout boy’s nerves to a wonderful extent, so that he could even do some of the bandaging himself.

The battle meanwhile ebbed and flowed by turns. They could not tell how things were going, though at times loud yellings came floating to their ears, as though one side or the other might have found cause for rejoicing. Thad had some reason for believing that the French must be holding their ground wonderfully well; at least he had seen no direct signs of a retreat.

Batteries now and then swept past to take fresh positions. They respected that magical flag flying there on the rise, though doubtless many a captain of a gun thought what a splendid position that would be to shell the distant lines of the enemy. Such an act, though, would have been contrary to all recognized rules of civilized warfare. They must scrupulously observe these so as to avoid giving the German batteries the slightest excuse for turning their guns in this quarter and raining fresh ruin and death upon the inmates of the emergency field hospital.

Once during another little lull in the almost constant succession of patients the noted American surgeon stepped over to where the three scouts were busily engaged. He gave them what he undoubtedly meant to be a smile of encouragement, although his face was so grim with his terrible work that it seemed almost out of place.

“I want to commend you boys for your ability in care of ordinary wounds,” he told Thad as he came up after glancing at the splendid way in which the bandage had been placed around a torn arm. “It does great credit to the organization to which you belong. I never dreamed it could be doing such a grand work among our boys over in America. After this I shall have only words of commendation for the Boy Scout movement. It has come to stay as the greatest uplift ever devised for the rising generation.”

Thad reddened under this eloquent praise. It was certainly worth all the trouble they had endured just to hear this splendid professional man utter such words.

“I only wish,” continued the tired surgeon, after Thad had thanked him as best he was able, “that I had the time to hear your story, for I’m very sure it must be worth listening to; perhaps later on I may do so while resting. But here comes another batch of poor fellows needing attention. Keep right on doing as you are, my boys. Grateful France will thank you for every wound you bind up.”

With that he left them and resumed his grewsome labors. Other cases came to the three chums from time to time; in fact, they were kept constantly employed, for a constant stream of injured continued to flow to the field hospital. Those German guns wrought terrific damage with their accurately placed fire, and when batallions of the blue came in contact with others wearing the Kaiser’s gray and the machine guns spat out their deadly hail the list of casualties mounted higher and higher as the day wore on.

Bumpus, in the midst of his work, found occasion to wonder how Giraffe might be coming on. Had he managed to reach the hospital in Paris and deliver his human freight, and would he start back again toward the front along that congested road to once more receive an allotment of the freshly wounded?

And then Bumpus indulged in rainbow chasing or building air castles when he allowed himself to imagine an accidental meeting on the streets of Paris between Giraffe and his sick mother, Mrs. Hawtree.

“Course that’d be next door to a miracle,” Bumpus admitted to himself candidly: “but then it’s possible at that. And it’d be fine for Giraffe to let Ma know her darling boy was safe and sound and just now as busy as a beaver, helping poor chaps along! Oh! well, before a great while I hope to be in Paris myself, when I can look her up. Sooner or later there’ll come along a chance to ride with a driver, and if Thad thinks it’s all right I guess I’ll go.”

Then he started in to labor with more vim than ever, as though determined to “make hay while the sun shone.” Truth to tell, few fellows could put their whole soul into any work of mercy better than Bumpus, who was known among his mates as an exceedingly tender-hearted chap.

It was while these things were going on with the momentum and precision of a great machine, the wounded coming and going in constant streams, that a sudden and startling interruption occurred.

Thad at the time had just finished bandaging the leg of a young French soldier, who bore the excruciating pain with the stoicism of a hero. He had made an especially decent job of the operation, according to his way of looking at it, and the patient thanked him in voluble French, which, of course, Thad could only partly understand.

Thinking to get him in one of the vans that were loading, Thad had just turned and half-risen to his feet when he experienced a rude shock. Close by there came a most terrific explosion. The earth flew high in the air in a shower that resembled a miniature geyser. No doubt considerable damage was done and a number of men either killed or maimed, while several horses immediately tried to run away, adding to the confusion.

Thad knew what this meant without being told. A German shell, the first that had been sent anywhere near the field hospital, had fallen in their midst and wrought much ruin. That was not the worst. For some reason unknown the German gunfire had been suddenly raised, and there was a strong likelihood that other terrible shells would follow that leader, rendering the position untenable!

No wonder, then, that consternation filled the hearts of the working surgeons as they held their breath while waiting to see if the blow would be repeated.