NURSING UNDER THREE FLAGS.

Pukekohe & Waiuku Times, Volume 5, Issue 219, 20 October 1916, Page 2 (Supplement)

NURSING UNDER THREE FLAGS.

TRAGEDY, PATHOS, AND HUMOUR OF WAR. I am a journalist, and I found the situation profoundly dramatic. lam a nurse, too, and i said some silent prayers of thanksgiving for suc'i knowledge as I had acquired through some years spent at the Johns Hopkins Hospital. These words might be taken as th i keynote of " Usder Three Flags," by St. Clair Livingston and Steen-Hansen, for they crystallise the point of view of the writers. Journa 1 - istic description, real feelings of sympathy and patriotism, a desire to help as well as a search for the dramatis, are to be found in the faseinjating pages of a book which was prepared for publication in the space of three weeks. ■ The description of Charlbroi as the Germans arrived runs ias .follows: "The streets filled as li by magic with mounted soldiers, who shot at each other as they dashed past. . • . Smoke, dust, and a fine rain-liko sheet of broken glass from the bursting windows of burning houses obscured the view. Haggard, willeyed civilians of every age and condition, forced to march in front of tho Germans for their protection, flashed past—stumbling, fall in j, fainting with fear and mesery, and kicked asi : de to die when they could march no longer."

THE EIGHT ZOUAVES. The two- journalists nursed in Bel gium, and later is the north of France, can tell many stories of the heroism of the wounded men. "An Algerian boy, almost a child, with h'.s leg shroff sang some verses of the 'Marseillaise' as he waited, 6ut when his turn for a dress : ng arrived he was dead.' Here, too, is the story of. the eight Zouaves at Verdun : They had come hurriedly from Africa to gfiht in D'rance . . and durisg their first engagement were made prisoners by the Germans. Now, quite close to Verdun la/ some French trenches. The French, so the Germans decided, would never fire on their own men; so a German force protected by a shield composed of their prisoners—the eight, Zouaves marched on the desired trenches. Tho French saw the force approaching, and cold horror settled or their hearts. . . Just within spea't ing distance one of the Zouaves . . raised his arm high over his head "Tirez done, mes gars, pour France!" ("Shoot, lads, shoot fop France!") he cried, and the French . . . fired. The trenches were saved.

In a hospital in Paris the tale >f young Bayerhoff was told by a l>:g Prussian peasant: — The boy was seventeen years old. and had been given the rank of a sub-lieutenant. . . . Arriving at village, an order was given to fire. What followed was the boy's ow.i fault. . . To be sure, during the firing on the French village many women and children had been kille.l in the streets, but this was war. . . Soldiers must obey th-j.r orders. Wuere would army discipline be i*. like young Bayerhoff, they had all . . . refused to fire? The boy had been punched, or course. . . and he had leen left on the ground senseless where he fell The Prussian had not seen him aga'n until, by some chance, he had beea placed in a bed next to him here m the hospital. . . he had heard th'j doctors wonder'ng what the wounds were from which he suffereJ.

DARCEY'S DEAF BROTHER. The story of Dareey's brother is we!! worth recounting:— On Christmas Day the writers visited ai Paris hospital known a? "Claridge's." ... I was just beginning to admire the lovely Ciirstmas decorations, when qu. ; te suddenly a loud and awful yell, deep, long, and ear-piercing, transfixed me where I stood. "What is that?" I gasped. A nurse glanced up at the clock. "Ah! It Ls just five," she sail, calmly: "The patients are yelling for Dareey's brother." It appeared that some months befo.o Darcey had come to tho hospital, grievously wounded. Ho and his brother had fought side by side in tho Foreign Leg : on, until both were wounded by the same shell. The brother was stricken deaf and dumb by tho detonation, and Darcey knew he could not tell one that he wanted to bo with his brother, so he implored the doctor to find him and bring him to "Claridge's." It was done, and Dareey's brother still could not speak. Now Claridge's was quite the mo-it interesting of hospitals, and the Darcey brothers were quite the most interesting patients. Dareey's brother must hear by Christmas," said all the patients, but alas! Christmas came, and still tho Itig, handsome boy turned sadly away from the p : ano wh?re a lovely French girl was playing jolly ragtime music, only for him. He could not hear a note. . . The big wardfill of wounded . . . soldiers were terribly depressed. . They put their heads together and arranged for tho long and awful yell which had frozen my blood in front of the Christmas tree. The yell was arranged to occur at five o'clock sharp. Dareey's brother war, not in the secret, but at five V clock sharp he suddenly threw his hands nto the air, and a beaming smile chased the sadness from bis face. For the first time since the shell burst over him in the trench he had heard a sound!

SERBIA'S WELCOME. I>ut journalists are not reallv welcomed by the authorities, and the two writers were sent back j rom the front, and made an uncomfortable journey with a party of dejected journalists who were being sent home like naughty children. Serbia, however, welcomed the adventurous ladies, and they nursed and travelled and saw many things in that stricken land:— We, passed many cemeteries, anl noticed the freshly turned earth of hundreds end hundreds of little mounds, forming monuments to rerent dead. "Wounded who have (hod?" I asked. "Typing victims," was the answe-.