Diary of a Nursing Sister on the Western Front, 1914-1915 | Page 7

last night waiting for an ambulance, mostly reservists called up; they'd
had a hot time, but were full of grit.
The men from Mons told us "it wasn't fighting--it was murder." They
said the burning hot sun was one of the worst parts. They said "the
officers was grand"; many regiments seem to have hardly any officers
left. They all say that the S.A. War was a picnic compared to this
German artillery onslaught and their packed masses continually filling
up.
There is a darling little chapel on this floor, beautifully kept, just as the
nuns left it, where one can say one's prayers. And there is also a lovely
church, where they have Mass at 8 every morning.
You can imagine how hard it has been to keep off grumbling at not
getting any work all this time; it is one of the worst of fortunes of war.
It seems as if most of the "dangerously" and many of the "seriously"
wounded must have died pretty soon, or have not been picked up. The
cases that do come down are most of them slight. Some of the worst
must be in hospital at Rouen.
Friday, September 4th. R.M.S.P. Asturias, Havre.--At last we are
uprooted from that convent up the hot hill and are on an enormous
hospital ship, who in times of peace goes to New York and Brazil and
the Argentine. There are 240 Sisters on her, one or two M.O.'s, and all
the No.-- equipment. She is like a great white town; you can walk for
miles on her decks; she is the biggest I have ever been on; we are in the
cabins, and the wards and operating-theatres are all equipped for
patients, but at the moment she is being used as a transport for us. We
are supposed to be going to St Nazaire, the port for Nantes. They can't
possibly be going to dump No.--, No.--, No.--, No.--, and No.-- all

down at the new base, so I suppose one or two of the hospitals will be
sent up the new lines of communication.
Poor Havre is very desolate. All the flags came down when the British
left, and the people looked very sad. Paris refugees are crowding in,
and sleeping on the floors of the hotels, and camping out in their motor
cars, and many crossing to England. There is a Proclamation up all over
the town telling the people to pull themselves together whatever
happens, and to forget everything that is not La Patrie. Also another
about the military necessity for the Government to leave Paris, and that
they mustn't be afraid of anything that may happen, because we shall
win in the end, &c., &c.
We don't start till to-morrow, I believe; meanwhile, cleanliness and
privacy and sheets, and cool, quick meals and sea breeze, are cheering
after the grime and the pigging and the squash and the awful heat of the
last fortnight. I have picked up a bad cold from the foul dust-heaps and
drainless condition of the smelly Havre streets, but it will soon
disappear now.
I wish I could tell you the extraordinary beauty of yesterday evening
from the ship. There was a flaming sunset below a pale-green sky, and
then the thousand lights of the ships and the town came out reflected in
the water, and then a brilliant moon. A big American cruiser was
alongside of us.
We shall get no more letters till we land. I have a "State-room" all to
myself on the top deck; the waiters and stewards are English, very
polite to us, and the crew are mostly West African negroes, who talk
good English. The ship is very becoming to the white, grey, and red of
our uniforms, or else our uniforms are becoming to the ship, and her
many decks; but why, oh why, are we not all in hospital somewhere?
Saturday, September 5th.--Had a perfect voyage--getting in to Nantes
to-night--after that no one knows. Shouldn't be surprised if we are sent
home.
LA BAULE, NEAR NANTES.

Monday, September 7th.--The latest wave of this erratic sea has tossed
us up on to two little French seaside places north of St Nazaire, the port
of Nantes. There are over 500 Sisters at the two places in hotels. No.--
and No.-- and part of -- are at La Baule in one enormous new hotel,
which has been taken over for the French wounded on the bottom floor;
the rest was empty till we came. We are in palatial rooms with
balconies overlooking the sea, and have large bathrooms opening out of
our rooms; it is rather like the Riffel in the middle of a forest of pines,
and the sea immediately in front. The expense of it all must be colossal!
Every one