How The Wounded Come Home

Horowhenua Chronicle, 1 November 1916, Page 2

How The Wounded Come Home

OLOGKWOR.K PRECISION OF THE K.A.1M.0. .JOY OF THE FIRST GLIMPSE OF E.VG'LANL). (Special Correspondent of London Daily Chronicle),

At the entrance to the Admiralty I'ior, I'onr or five old Indites arc sitting, in the shadow of a wall, one <>1 tlieni reading a .paper, tlie rest knitting. '!'hey ecme the; e every day just to wave handkerchiefs as the ambulance trains riniiljle past on the way to a tuunel. The sentry at tlie gate examines my j>a ; s and allows me to proceed. 1 walk ; lon.g railway lines for about oO yards i nd then mount the platform of a large sta ion which has been built since the war. I made 1113" way to the extreme lud ( f this long platform and pass out i.:i to tho Admiralty Pier. Two c:f tli: ee ancient mariners, with peeked caps ov<r .their eyes and pipes i i their bearcVd mouths, are .sitting 011 the ground, their backs against the .station wall, their legs stretched out In front of them. "HERE SHE COMES." ■Suddenly as 7 stand baking and grizzling in the afternoon glare the sound of a siren comes I'roni the sea, its vigorous "whoop-whoop-whoop" seemiing as if it strikes the smooth water and bounces shoreward like a flat pebble playing ducks-and-drakes. Oik- of the ancient mariners says drowsily, "Here she eoineSj then!" and shoves Jiis cap up in order to 'swatch liis head. The

others say something about being in good time. T look seaward, wondering how this •pitcure of England will strike our wounded, fresh from the battlefield of France. And m I stand, looking for the funnel to appear over the stone wall, thero conics another sound from tlu: distance — a heay.v, churlish, gminpy sound as though .some giant Mere shoving great blocks of sky into new places. "There go the guns." says an ancient nmnrinor. ''thovr'e still at it." And he laughs gcxrVnatumllv. The guns .in France continue to shako the air, rumbling and prnmbling across the smooth sea, o« though thev we're pursuing the hespit:)] ship into harbour. Presently above the stone pier I see swift-moving funnel and masts; and t'len. in a moment, a great whit' l ship, with a broad band of n'eon front stem to stern appears at the rn-trnnco of the harbour ? and comes po r nt'ng towards us flying the blue ensign anil the Jfed Cross. I bear the erv "Fall i<>!" fivin tli? station. an:l. locking over rev shoulder *ee a b~dy <i R.A..M.C. iron form i n/. up in their sli'itdeerps. The ancient mariners get slowly en their pond 'runs feet. An offifial of tho harbour appears briskly, giving brusque orders. Then two naval officers, followed by a capia ; n of the R.A.M.0., iiiklo their i.pjv-nr-ance on the pier. No one in ib ; « group shows the least excitement. Th?,'o is no hurry and no fm,s. AVe lignt a cigarette and talk of the heat. EXiDUrW.VG PICTURE OF - "BLIGHTY." But think what it means to the men on the white ship—this coming homo, this steady and enduring picture of "Blighty" after the hell in France -• these white cliffs, the little tori'iiCS'l houses, the tradesmen's cart Tattling round a corner, the bathers diving fr. in the sie'n <f a boat and swimming after a football, the children in perambulators <:n the parade, the old people reading newspapers in the glass shelters, the peace, the sleepiness, the unconquerable composure of Old Blighty. They crowd the ship, and all are aazrng at this p : cture of England. Thero •'« neither jilo.m nor pleasure visible in their faces. T look up to the deck and see brown faces of young men w''o e brains a-e w : th questions which do not show. They are all ' their mud-clotted khaki, some in steel helmruK. some in wo lien caps, some with enly bandages over their heads— an enormous crowd (f them loading tho v.h : l'< '-ip. Tl'- v stand on the dieck look'ng before them, not smiling, not s.p"ak : ng. but just quietly talking in this picture of Old Blighty enjoying its afternoon nap.

X-vcr came ship move silently into harbour. T want to chce.r. but cannot mnsti" enough courage. I want to take off my lint, luit find I have too much ;o!f-eoiiseiousness for the net. It is not easy to .standi there facing all those silent eyes, thinking of what they have suffered. As I look up at the ship I .see orderlies going to and fro with mugs of tea and trays of cake. The wounded men help themselves from these trays, eating cakes and, drinking tea with a cigarette still smouldering between their fingers. FROCESS'ION OF AVERAGE MEN. The ancient mariners ha've now made the whip fast, and a're being swiftly run out from the pier. The R.A.M.C. officer exchanges a few words with another R.A.M.C. officer on board. Orderlies march up gangways, carrying stretchers, and disappear in the cvowc'i of wounded me i. A boy appears 011 the scene with newspapers. A sergeant at the entrance to th.' station begins to pile together a number of walking .sticks and crutches. Then ail order is, called out and down pangway come the wounded who can walk, some of them still munching currant cake.

Tfc'is a procession o,f the average man j t'loni the a vera no street of the average town. Only now nlul then do yen see""' a remarkable person, as when a tall ami very handsome Australasian. with a hunch of cock's feathers in his broad brimmed hat, comes .striding down the gangway like a king. For the mrst part the men are not remarkable. They represent a nation l rather than its army. They aire not men who love war, but hate war. They u-ro brother citizens who have taken up arms to destroy tyraavny. The.v are not very tall and not very strong and not very handsome. And they :ro mod) of all ages, from boyhood to grey hairs. One has his arm in s-ling another walks on his crutches; aiioth.*r is bandaged l-ound the Porch end: another is without visible sign of hurt. Each man lias a label attached to .1 button' of liiis tunic. There is 110 no : se, scarcely a .sound. NOT A SINGLE WHIMPER. , Away they go as quickly as they can, beginning to smile more, and to talk among themselves, bobbing hopping, and walking from the ipior to the rail way station just a crowd of English men in khaki. Then follow the stretcher cases. Sometimes the face on the stretcher is white, sometimes grey, sometimes so liro'ize 1 and .splc l'lid that you cannot believe the lvar is hurt. The eyes stare at me as the stretcher gees by 011 its way to the station, some smiling, f-oine (pi ssti'Hling. some seeing n:lthing.