A Surgeon in Belgium | Page 2

has not in
his heart wished to go to the front, and to do what he could. The
thought may have been only transitory, and may soon have been blotted
out by self-interest; and there is many a strong man who has thrust it
from him because he knew that his duty lay at home. But to everyone
the wish must have come, though only to a few can come the
opportunity. We all want to do our share, but it is only human that we
should at the same time long to be there in the great business of the
hour, to see war as it really is, to feel the thrill of its supreme moments,
perhaps in our heart of hearts to make quite certain that we are not
cowards. And when we return, what do we bring with us? We all bring
a few bits of shell, pictures of ruined churches, perhaps a German
helmet--and our friends are full of envy. And some of us return with
scenes burnt into our brain of horror and of pathos such as no human
pen can describe. Yet it is only when we sit down in the quiet of our
homes that we realize the deeper meaning of all that we have seen, that
we grasp the secret of the strange aspects of humanity which have
passed before us. What we have seen is a world in which the social
conventions under which we live, and which form a great part or the
whole of most of our lives, have been torn down. Men and women are
no longer limited by the close barriers of convention. They must think
and act for themselves, and for once it is the men and women that we
see, and not the mere symbols which pass as coin in a world at peace.
To the student of men and women, the field of war is the greatest
opportunity in the world. It is a veritable dissecting-room, where all the
queer machinery that goes to the making of us lies open to our view.
On the whole, I am very glad that I am a mere surgeon, and that I can
limit my dissections to men's bodies. Human Anatomy is bad enough,
but after the last three months the mere thought of an analysis of
Human Motives fills me with terror.
Our boat was one of the older paddle steamers. We were so fortunate as

to have a friend at Court, and the best cabins on the ship were placed at
our disposal. I was very grateful to that friend, for it was very rough,
and our paddle-boxes were often under water. We consoled ourselves
by the thought that at least in a rough sea we were safe from
submarines, but the consolation became somewhat threadbare as time
went on. Gradually the tall white cliffs of Dover sank behind us,
splendid symbols of the quiet power which guards them. But for those
great white cliffs, and the waves which wash their base, how different
the history of England would have been! They broke the power of
Spain in her proudest days, Napoleon gazed at them in vain as at the
walls of a fortress beyond his grasp, and against them Germany will
fling herself to her own destruction. Germany has yet to learn the
strength which lies concealed behind those cliffs, the energy and
resource which have earned for England the command of the sea. It was
a bad day for Germany when she ventured to question that command.
She will receive a convincing answer to her question.
We reached Ostend, and put up for the night at the Hotel Terminus.
Ostend was empty, and many of the hotels were closed. A few bombs
had been dropped upon the town some days before, and caused
considerable excitement--about all that most bombs ever succeed in
doing, as we afterwards discovered. But it had been enough to cause an
exodus. No one dreamt that in less than three weeks' time the town
would be packed with refugees, and that to get either a bed or a meal
would be for many of them almost impossible. Everywhere we found
an absolute confidence as to the course of the war, and the general
opinion was that the Germans would be driven out of Belgium in less
than six weeks.
Two of our friends in Antwerp had come down to meet us by motor,
and we decided to go back with them by road, as trains, though still
running, were slow and uncertain. It was a terrible day, pouring in
torrents and blowing a hurricane. Our route lay through Bruges and
Ghent, but the direct road to Bruges was in a bad condition, and we
chose the indirect road through Blankenberghe.