poured in.

While waiting for our material, we went over the buildings. But a
few days before, contagious diseases had been treated here. A hasty
disinfection had left the wards reeking with formaline which rasped the
throat without disguising the sickly stench of the crowded sufferers.
They were huddled round the stoves in the rooms, lying upon the beds of
the dormitories, or crouching on the flags of the passages.

In each ward of the lower storey there were thirty or forty men of every
branch of the service, moaning and going out from time to time to crawl
to the latrines, or, mug in hand, to fetch something to drink.

As we explored further, the scene became more terrible; in the back
rooms and in the upper building a number of severely wounded men had
been placed, who began to howl as soon as we entered. Many of them had
been there for several days. The brutality of circumstances, the relief
of units, the enormous sum of work, all combined to create one of those
situations which dislocate and overwhelm the most willing service.

We opened a door, and the men who were lying within began to scream at
the top of their voices. Some, lying on their stretchers on the floor,
seized us by the legs as we passed, imploring us to attend to them. A
few bewildered orderlies hurried hither and thither, powerless to meet
the needs of this mass of suffering. Every moment I felt my coat seized,
and heard a voice saying:

"I have been here four days. Dress my wounds, for God's sake."

And when I answered that I would come back again immediately, the poor
fellow began to cry.

"They all say they will come back, but they never do."

Occasionally a man in delirium talked to us incoherently as we moved
along. Sometimes we went round a quiet bed to see the face of the
sufferer, and found only a corpse.

Each ward we inspected revealed the same distress, exhaled the same
odour of antiseptics and excrements, for the orderlies could not always
get to the patient in time, and many of the men relieved themselves
apparently unconcerned.

I remember a little deserted room in disorder, on the table a bowl of
coffee with bread floating in it; a woman's slippers on the floor,
and in a corner, toilet articles and some strands of fair hair.... I
remember a corner where a wounded man suffering from meningitis,
called out unceasingly: 27, 28, 29... 27, 28, 29... a prey to a strange
obsession of numbers. I see a kitchen where a soldier was