no crutches even if I could use them, I should be burnt to a
cinder long before any of them! This seemed to comfort them to a certain
extent. I could tell by the sound of the bombs as they exploded that the
Gothas could not be far away; and then, suddenly, we heard the engines
quite plainly, and there was a terrific rushing sound I knew only too
well. The crash came, but, though the walls rocked and the windows
rattled in their sockets, they did not fall.

Above the din we heard a woman's piercing scream, "Oh God, I'm burning!"
as she ran down the street. Simultaneously the reflection of a red glare
played on the walls opposite. All was confusion outside, and the sound
of rushing feet pierced by screams from injured women and children
filled the air. It was terrible to sit there powerless, unable to do
anything to help. The hospital had just been missed by a miracle, but
some printing offices next door were in flames, and underneath was a
large concrete dug-out holding roughly 150 people. What the total
casualties were I never heard. Luckily a ward had just been evacuated
that evening and the wounded and dying were brought in immediately. It
was horrible to see little children, torn and maimed, being carried past
our door into the ward. The hum of the Gotha's engines could still be
heard quite distinctly.

Sparks flew past the windows, but thanks to the firemen who were on the
spot almost immediately, the fire was got under and did not spread to
the hospital.

It was a terrible night! How I longed to be able to give the Huns a
taste of their own medicine!

The "All clear" was not sounded till 3 a.m. Many of the injured died
before morning, after all that was humanly possible had been done for
them. I heard some days later that a discharged soldier, who had been in
the dug-out when the bomb fell, was nearly drowned by the floods of
water from the hoses, and was subsequently brought round by artificial
respiration. He was heard to exclaim: "Humph, first they wounds me aht
in France, then they tries to drown me in a bloomin' air raid!"

There was one W.A.A.C.--Smith we will call her--who could easily have
made her fortune on the stage, she was so clever at imitations. She
would "take you off" to your face and make you laugh in spite of
yourself. She was an East-ender and witty in the extreme, warm of heart
but exceedingly quick-tempered. I liked her tremendously, she was so
utterly alive and genuine.

One night I w