NowItCanBeToldCHAPTERXV

chapterxv

therewasabighospitalinamiens,closetotherailwaystation,organizedbynewzealanddoctorsandnurses.iwentthereonedayintheautumnof1914,whenthearmyofvonkluckhadpassedthroughthecityandgonebeyond.thegermandoctorshadleftbehindtheinstrumentsabandonedbyanenglishunitsharingtheretreat.thefrenchdoctorwhotookmeroundtoldmetheenemyhadbehavedwellinamiens.atleasthehadrefrainedfromatrocities.asiwentthroughthelongwardsididnotguessthatonedayishouldbeapatientthere.thatwastwoyearslater,attheendofthesommebattles.iwaswornoutandbloodlessafterfivemonthsofhardstrainandnervouswearandtear.somebughadbittenmeupinthefieldswherelaytheunburieddead.

“trenchfever,”saidthedoctor.

“youlookinneedofarest,”saidthematron.“myword,howwhiteyouare!hadahardtime,eh,liketherestofthem?”

ilayinbedattheendoftheofficers'ward,withonlyoneotherbedbetweenmeandthewall.thatwasoccupiedbythegunner-generalofthenewzealanddivision.oppositewasanotherrowofbedsinwhichofficerslaysleeping,orreading,orlyingstillwithwistfuleyes.

“that'sallright.you'regoingtodie!”saidarosy—cheekedyoungorderly,aftertakingmytemperatureandfeelingmypulse.itwashiswayofcheeringapatientup.hetoldmehowhehadbeentorpedoedinthedardanelleswhilehewasillwithdysentery.heindulgedinreminiscenceswiththenewzealandgeneralwhohadagrimgiftofsilence,butglintingeyes.inthebedonmyleftwasahandsomeboywithafine,delicateface,asubalterninthecoldstreamguards,withapileofbooksathiselbow—allbyanatolefrance.itwasthefirsttimeihadeverlaidinhospital,andifeltamazinglyweakandhelpless,butinterestedinmysurroundings.thedaynurse,atall,buxomnewzealandgirlwhomthegeneralchaffedwithsarcastichumor,andwhogavebackmorethanshegot,wentoffdutywithacheery,“goodnight,all!”andthenightnursetookherplace,andmadeafirstvisittoeachbed.shewasadaintylittlewomanwiththecomplexionofadelicateroseandlarge,luminouseyes.shehadanunlikelook,utterlypure,butwithaspiritualfireinthoseshiningeyesofhersforallthesemen,whowerelikechildreninherhands.theyseemedgladathercoming.

“goodevening,sister!”saidonemanafteranother,evenonewhohadlaidwithhiseyesclosedforanhourormore,withalookofdeathonhisface.

shekneltdownbesideeachone,saying,“howareyouto-night?”andchattinginalowvoice,inaudibletothebedbeyond.fromonebediheardaboy'svoicesay:“oh,don'tgoyet,sister!youhaveonlygivenmetwominutes,andiwantten,atleast.iampassionatelyinlovewithyou,youknow,andihavebeenwaitingalldayforyourbeauty!”

therewasagustoflaughterintheward.

“thechildisatitagain!”saidoneoftheofficers.

“whenareyougoingtowritemeanothersonnet?”askedthenurse.“thelastonewasmuchadmired.”

“thelastonewasrotten,”saidtheboy.“ihavewrittenarealcorkerthistime.readittoyourself,anddon'tdropitspearlsbeforetheseswine.”

“well,youmustbegood,oriwon'treaditatall.”

anofficerofthebritisharmy,whowasalsoapoet,hurledthebedclothesoffandsatontheedgeofhisbedinhispajamas.

“i'mfedupwitheverything!ihatewar!idon'twanttobeahero!idon'twanttodie!iwanttobeloved!...i'magluttonforlove!”

inhispajamastheboylookedachild,noolderthanaschoolboywhowasmineandwhostilllikedtobetuckedupinbedbyhismother.withhistousledhairandhispetulantgrimace,thislieutenantmighthavebeenpeterpan,fromkensington.thenightnursepretendedtochidehim.itwasaverygentlechiding,butasabruptlyashehadthrownoffhisclothesheledunderthemagainandsaid:“allright,i'llbegood.onlyiwantakissbeforeigotosleep.”

ibecamegoodfriendswiththatboy,whowasapromisingyoungpoet,andajoyouscreaturenomorefitforwarthanachildoften,hatingthemuckandhorrorofit,notashamedtoconfesshisfear,withaboyishwistfulnessofhopethathemightnotbekilled,becausehelovedlife.buthewaskilled...ihadaletterfromhisstrickenmothermonthsafterward.thechildwas“missing”then,andherheartcriedoutforhim.

oppositemybedwasamiddle-agedmanfromlancashire—isupposehehadbeeninacotton-millorafactory—ahard-headed,simple-heartedfellow,asgoodasgold,andalwaysspeakingof“thewife.”buthisnerveshadgonetopiecesandhewasafraidtosleepbecauseofthedreamsthatcametohim.

“sister,”hesaid,“don'tletmegotosleep.wakemeupifyouseemedozing.iseeterriblethingsinmydreams.frightfulthings.ican'tbearit.”

“youwillsleepbetterto-night,”shesaid.“iamputtingsomethinginyourmilk.somethingtostopthedreaming.”

buthedreamed.ilayawake,feverishandrestless,andheardthemanoppositemutteringandmoaning,inhissleep.sometimeshewouldgivealong,quiveringsigh,andsometimesstartviolently,andthenwakeupinadazedway,saying:

“oh,mygod!oh,mygod!”tremblingwithfear,sothatthebedwasshaken.thenightnursewasalwaysbyhissideinamomentwhenhecalledout,hushinghimdown,whisperingtohim.

“iseepoolsofbloodandbitsofdeadbodiesinmysleep,”hetoldme.“it'swhatisawupatbazentin.therewasafellowwithhisfaceblownoff,walkingabout.iseehimeverynight.queer,isn'tit?nerves,youknow.ididn'tthinkihadanerveinmybodybeforethiswar.”

thelittlenightnursecametomybedside.

“can'tyousleep?”

“i'mafraidnot.myheartisthumpinginaqueerway.mayismoke?”

sheputacigarettebetweenmylipsandlightedamatch.

“takeafewwhiffsandthentrytosleep.youneedlotsofsleep.”

inthewardtherewasonlytheglimmerofnightlightsinredglasses,andnowandthenallthroughthenightmatcheswerelighted,illuminatingtheroomforasecond,followedbytheglowingendofacigaretteshininglikeastarinthedarkness.

thesleepingmenbreathedheavily,tossedaboutviolently,gavestrangejerksandstarts.sometimestheyspokealoudintheirsleep.

“thatisn'tadud,youfool!itwillblowustohell.”

“nowthen,getonwithit,can'tyou?”

“lookout!they'recoming!can'tyouseethemmovingbythewire?”

thespiritofwarwasinthatwardandhuntedthemevenintheirsleep;lurkingterrorssurgedupagainintheirsubconsciousness.sightswhichtheyhadtriedtoforgetstaredatthemthroughtheirclosedeyelids.thedaylightcameandthenightnurseslippedaway,andthedaynurseshookone'sshouldersandsaid:“timetowashandshave.nomalingering!”

itwasthedisciplineofthehospital.menasweakasratshadtositupinbed,orcrawloutofit,andshavethemselves.

“you'remerciless!”isaid,laughingpainfullywhenthedaynursedabbedmybackwithcoldiodineatsixo'clockonawintermorning,withthewindowswideopen.

“oh,there'snomercyinthisplace!”saidthestrong-mindedgirl.“it'skillorcurehere,andnotimetoworry.”

“you'realldevils,”saidthenewzealandgeneral.“youdon'tcareadamnaboutthepatientssolongasyouhaveallthebedstidybythetimethedoctorcomesaround.i'mageneral,iam,andyoucan'tordermeabout,andifyouthinki'mgoingtoshaveatthistimeinthemorningyouarejollywellmistaken.iamdownwithdysentery,anddon'tyouforgetit.ididn'tgetthroughthedardanellestobemurderedatamiens.”

“that'swhereyoumaybemistaken,general,”saidtheimperturbablegirl.“ihavetocarryoutorders,andiftheyleadtoyourdeathit'snotmyresponsibility.i'mpaidapoorwageforthisjob,butidomyduty,roughorsmooth,killorcure.”

“you'reavampire.that'swhatyouare.”

“i'manurse.”

“ifeverihearyou'regoingtomarryanewzealandboyi'llwarnhimagainstyou.”

“he'llbetoomuchofafooltolistentoyou.”

“i'veagoodmindtomarryyoumyselfandbeatyoueverymorning.”

“modernwiveshavestrongmuscles.lookatmyarm!”

threenightsinoneweektherewereairraids,andasthegermanmarkwastherailwaystationwewereinthecenterofthedanger-zone.therewasafrightfulnoiseofsplinteringglassandsmashingtimberbetweeneachcrashofhighexplosives.thewhineofshrapnelfromtheanti—aircraftgunshadasinisternote,abominableintheearsofthoseofficerswhohadcomedownfromthefighting—linesnerve-rackedandfever-stricken.theylayveryquiet.thenightnursemovedaboutfrombedtobed,withherflash-lamp.herfacewaspale,butsheshowednoothersignoffearandwasbraverthanherpatientsatthattime,thoughtheyhaddonethehero'sjoballright.

itwasinanotherhospitalayearlater,whenilaysickagain,thatanofficer,averygallantgentleman,said,“ifthereisanotherairraidishallgomad.”hehadbeenstationedneartheblast-furnaceoflesizelquins,nearbethune,andhadbeeninmanyairraids,whenoversixty-threeshellshadblownhishuttobitsandkilledhismen,untilhecouldbearitnomore.intheamienshospitalsomeofthepatientshadtheirheadsunderthebedclotheslikelittlechildren.