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Page 29
"Come along and ask him some questions," he said to me. "Don't stand
about there doing nothing--make yourself useful. Tell him he'll be well
treated--better than the English wounded are treated in Germany."
The prisoner answered in a drawling whisper:
"I never expected bad treatment--the English wounded are not treated
badly by us either."
"Aren't they! That's all he knows about it!... Ask him if he likes war."
"O God, no--war's good for the rich, not for the poor."
"I thought these Huns loved warfare--ask him if he thinks Germany will
win."
"Germany's in a bad way--Ach Gott, don't ask me any more, give me
something to stop my pain!"
"That's the retort diplomatic! Send him off to sleep--let's get the job
done."
When the man had lost consciousness, Captain Grierson, the an�sthetist,
put the chloroform bottle aside, jumped down from the stool, and
searched the pockets of his helpless patient. He did not find much,
however, only a few letters and picture postcards until he came to a
deep trouser pocket from which he drew a big German pipe.
"Not a bad souvenir," he said, as he put it into his own pocket and
returned to his stool. Of course this was not stealing, it was merely
"scrounging" or "pinching" or "collecting souvenirs," which is an
entirely different thing.
For a time the surgeons worked silently, amputating arms and legs,
holding the bare skin between two fingers and cutting the flesh,
throwing bleeding bits on to the floor, dressing and bandaging stumps
and excised wounds.
Captain Calthrop was grumbling at the tedium of the work when his
an�sthetist lit upon a happy thought and said:
"How'd you like to try your hand at giving an an�sthetic? I'll have a
shot at surgery--I've never done it before. I'd like to see if I'm any
good at it."
"Right you are," replied Captain Calthrop, "we'll change over."
"Jolly good idea," added Captain Wycherley at the next table, "we'll
change over too."
"Right-o," said his an�sthetist.
And so the two an�sthetists operated and the two surgeons gave
an�sthetics. It was, perhaps, rather a dangerous thing to do, but as the
wounded men were only Germans it did not matter.
Captain Dowden took no part in this experiment. In fact he even
suggested that it was "a bit thick," but his disapproval did not assume
a more tangible form.
After finishing one case each, the four surgeons and an�sthetists
changed back again.
"Surgery, isn't so bad as I thought it would be."
"Isn't it--you wait till you get an abdominal!"
"Giving an an�sthetic's rather a ticklish affair. I thought my man was
going to choke to death, he got so blue in the face."
A few more Germans with slight flesh wounds that only required dressing
were brought in, and then the work of the night shift was over.
The surgeons, an�sthetists and sisters trooped out gaily to have tea and
cakes in the shed opposite the entrance to the theatre.
Our work was not yet over, for we still had to put everything in order
for the day shift.
The operating theatre looked like a butcher's shop. There were big pools
and splashes of blood on the floor. Bits of flesh and skin and bone were
littered everywhere. The gowns of the orderlies were stained and
bespattered with blood and yellow picric acid. Each bucket was full of
blood-sodden towels, splints, and bandages, with a foot, or a hand, or
a severed knee-joint overhanging the rim.
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