We were absolutely in despair.  We had one man actually dying, several others who must die before long, eight or ten who were very severely wounded in the thigh and quite unable to move, two at least who were paralysed, many who had not set foot out of bed and were not fit to travel—­we had not forgotten the amputation case of a few days before, who was taken out dead at Charleroi station.  I was so absolutely miserable about it that I persuaded the Belgian doctor to go to the commandant, and beg that the worst cases might be left to us, which he very pluckily did, but without the slightest effect—­they must all go, ill or well, fit or unfit.  After all the German patients were returning to their own country and people, but these poor French soldiers were going ill and wounded as prisoners to suffer and perhaps die in an enemy’s country—­an enemy who knew no mercy.

I could hardly bear to go into the wards at all that day, and busied myself with seeing about their clothes.  Here was a practical illustration of the difference in equipment between the German and French soldiers.  The German soldiers came in well equipped, with money in their pockets and all they needed with them.  Their organization was perfect, and they were prepared for the war; the French were not.  When they arrived at the hospital their clothes had been cut off them anyhow, with jagged rips and splits by the untrained Red Cross girls.  Trained ambulance workers are always taught to cut by the seam when possible.  Many had come without a cap, some without a great-coat, some without boots; all had to be got ready somehow.  The hospital was desperately short of supplies—­we simply could not give them all clean shirts and drawers as we longed to do.  The trousers were our worst problem, hardly any of them were fit to put on.  We had a few pairs of grey and black striped trousers, the kind a superior shopman might wear, but we were afraid to give those to the men as we thought the Germans would think they were going to try to escape if they appeared in civil trousers, and might punish them severely.  So we mended up these remnants of French red pantaloons as best we could.  One man we had to give civil trousers as he had only a few shreds of pantaloon left, and these he promised to carry in his hand to show that he really could not put them on.

The men were laughing and joking and teasing one another about their garments, but my heart was as heavy as lead.  I simply could not bear to let the worst cases go.  One or two of the Committee came up and we begged them to try what they could do with the commandant, but they said it was not the least use, and from what I had seen myself, I had to confess that I did not think it would be.  The patient I was most unhappy about was a certain French count we had in the hospital.  He had been shot through the back at the battle of Nalinnes, and was three days on the battlefield before he was picked up.  Now