s and men a few german nurses and red cross men

publish 2022-06-02,browse 26
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s and men, a few german nurses and red cross men, and one civilian doctor.started at 8.45 and reached the dutch frontier just after midnight._february 16._had dozed off but woke up when we reached the frontier and was much amused when the dutch customs officials came and asked us if we had anything to declare! they even pretended to search our few miserable belongings.can never forget the kindness of the dutch both here and everywhere we stopped all through the journey to flushing.they crowded into the carriages; they showered food, tobacco, cigarettes, sweets, fruit, even english books and papers on us; they forgot nothing.if theyd been our own personal friends they could have done no more for us.dutch doctors and guards boarded the train at the frontier, and also an english newspaper correspondent with whom we talked for a couple of hours, gradually picking up the thread of all that had happened since we were cut off from the outer world.an exhilarating feeling to have left germany behind and to be amongst friends again.reached flushing about 10.30 and were welcomed by the british consul and by several english people over there in connection with belgian relief work.their hospitality was unbounded.had a merry lunch with them in the hotel, and then strolled out to see the townfollowed by a large and noisy crowd of school children.but what a joy to be a free man, to be able to go where one likes and do what one likes! wired home.in the afternoon the boat which is to take us back arrived from england with the german wounded.the two batches of men were close together on the platform.what a contrast! the germans, clean, wellcared for, dressed either in comparatively serviceable uniform or new civilian clothes; the english, whitefaced, pinched and careworn, in threadbare khaki (some even in tattered french or belgian uniform) with no buttons, most of them with no hats or badges.at first our men were indignantthey had suffered much, and it was evident to them that the treatment of prisoners in the two countries was very different.but soon the inherent chivalry of the british private soldier overcame his other feelings.the germans were enemies but they were woundedcripples for life most of themand they too were going home.it formed a bond between the two groups.in five minutes cigarettes were being exchanged and conversation (aided by signs) in full swing.there was an english corporal, paralysed, lying on a stretcher in the waitingroom.i helped one of the english ladies to take him some tea.she knelt beside him, put the cup to his lips, and, when he had drunk, asked him how he felt.for a moment he didnt answer but merely stared at her with great dark wondering eyes.then he said slowly: are you english? that was all, just those three words, but they expressed everythingthe misery of all the months he had been in foreign hands, his patience, his suffering, and now at long last his infinite content at finding one of his own countrywomen bending over him.his head dropped wearily back on to the pillow and he closed his eyes; he was happy.had dinner at the hotel where we met the doctors who had come over with the germans and who were to go back with us.afterwards went on board the boat which, however, was not to start till the morning.to my dying day i shall remember sitting in the saloon and watching the sad procession of two hundred crippled n.c.o.s and men being brought on board.there were paralysed cases on stretchers, blind men, deaf men, men with an arm or a leg gone, dozens hopelessly lame manoeuvring their crutches with difficulty, helping each other, laughing at each otherhappy enough for the moment.but oh! the pity of it.what of the future of these maimed and broken men? they are happy now because theyre thinking only of tomorrow, but what of the day after? what of the thousands of days after? england is proverbially ungrateful to her lesser kind of heroes as well as to her greater kind of poets.geniuses have been known to starve in garretsand so have balaclava survivors.these men deserve well of their country.will they be remembered or forgotten? went to bed late, again too excited to sleep.feel at last that its a reality and not a dream._february 17._woke to find that the boat had started, that it was blowing half a gale, raining hard and that we were in for a vile crossing.too happy to be ill, however.a large number of belgian refugees on board.talked to several of our men.all their stories tallied in essentials.they had been underfed, underclothed, singled out for all the disagreeable work and all the abuse_because they were english_.watched them playing cards, helping anxious belgian mothers with their seasick children

Hello, My name is John Doe

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