the
dark, while the orderlies hold little torches to enable the doctors to
dress the wounds. There are not _half_ enough nurses or doctors out
here. In one hospital there are 400 beds and only two trained nurses.

[Page Heading: ARRIVAL OF BRITISH TROOPS]

Some of our own troops came through the town in London omnibuses to-day.
It was quite a Moment, and we felt that all was well. We went to the
gate and shook hands with them as they passed, and they made jokes and
did us all good. We cheered and waved handkerchiefs.

_5-6 October._--I think the last two days have been the most ghastly I
ever remember. Every day seems to bring news of defeat. It is awful, and
the Germans are quite close now. As I write the house shakes with the
firing. Our troops are falling back, and the forts have fallen. Last
night we took provisions and water to the cellars, and made plans to get
the wounded taken there.

They say the town will be shelled to-morrow. All these last two days
bleeding men have been brought in. To-day three of them died, and I
suppose none of them was more than 23. We have to keep up all the time
and show a good face, and meals are quite cheery. To-day, Tuesday, was
our last chance of leaving, and only two went.

The guns boom by day as well as by night, and as each one is heard one
thinks of more bleeding, shattered men. It is calm, nice autumn weather;
the trees are yellow in the garden and the sky is blue, yet all the time
one listens to the cries of men in pain. To-night I meant to go out for
a little, but a nurse stopped me and asked me to sit by a dying man.
Poor fellow, he was twenty-one, and looked like some brigand chief, and
he smiled as he was dying. The horror of these two days will last
always, and there are many more such days to come. Everyone is behaving
well, and that is all I care about.

_7 October._--It is a glorious morning: they will see well to kill each
other to-day.

The guns go all day and all night. They are so close that the earth
shakes with them. Last night in the infernal darkness we were turning
wounded men away from the door. There was no room for them even on the
floor. The Belgians scream terribly. Our own men suffer quite quietly.
One of them died to-day.

Day and night a stream of vehicles passes the gate. It never ceases.
Nearly all are motors, driven at a furious pace, and they sound horns
all the time. These are met by a stream of carts and old-fashioned
vehicles bringi