A CHEISTMAS WITH THE WOUNDED.

Tuapeka Times, Volume III, Issue 162, 16 March 1871, Page 6

A CHEISTMAS WITH THE WOUNDED.

A special correspondent, writing from Cologne on December 27, gives the following interesting particulars :: — •

On the right bank of the Rhine, about a mile from the new railway bridge at Cologne, aie a house and some thirty tents. Erom a window in the house floats the red-cross flag, and upon each of the tents is painted the same sacred symbol of Christianity — the flag and the crosses denote that the establishment is an ambulance, a hospital for the wounded, I had heard at Cologne that the English had done wonders for the sufferers from the war, but a visit to the so-called English ambulance soon undeceived me. The hospital establishment at Cologne is solely supported by Germans living in England, and has nothing whatever to do with the English Society in Aid of the Wounded. 1 wish it were otherwise for the sake of my country ; but " lot honour be were honour is due." Among the French prisoners over here there are thousands in a most pitiable condition from sickness and disease. The great English Society might spend a little of their "quarter of a million of money" in establishing an ambulance in Cologne with the best results. Aid of all kind is most urgently needed. Through the kindness and courtesy of Mr. Deitchman. the founder of the ambulance, and Mr. J. Priestly Smith, the resident English Surgeon, I was favoured with an invitation to attend a grand festival to be given to the wounded on Christmas night. To admit of the presence of visitors (who would be engaged at their own private festivals on the 25th December), it was determined to hold Christinas on Boxing D;iy. My card announced that the entertainment would commence at halfpasbfour o'clock, so a little before that time I assumed my fur coat and thick woollen-lined gloves, and left my hotel for the ambulance. It was bitterly cold. The breath froze on the beard, The hair became encrusted with icicles. As I walked on the bank of the Rhine I noticed that the river was a mass of flouting snow-coverocl ice. Tt was a beautiful sight to watch the -gigantic pieces of frozen water as, carried" by the rapid current, they dashed with the noise of thunder against the piers of the bridge. For miles and miles I could see nothing but fields of moving, crashing ice. All the boats of the Rhine had been moored close to the banks, and shored up with barricades of snow, 1 suppose to be out of the way of the mimic iecbpgs careering so wildly in the centre of the stream. As you may imagine, all traffic on the river is suspended until warmer weather reduces the snow and ice to harmless water.

After a brisk walk I arrived at the ambulance. The house was a blaze of light, and as I passed tho Prussian sentinels (who very politely opened the gate for me), the strains of " Wacht am Rhein," sung in excellent style, were carried on the wintry wind to my ears. I could scarcely believe that I was walking in the grounds of a hospital. It whs only when I entered the house that I found T was indeed in the midst of the wounded. Sick men met my gaze on every side — some convalescent, with the rosy cheeks of returning health ; others, pale and wan, and near unto death ; but one and all happy and contented. Nob until that moment, when I was surrounded by the sick and the wounded, did I fully realise the horror of war and the blessing of charity. In spite of the decorations and the song.? of the soldiers, it was the most tranquil, albeit, the roost touching sight I have ever witnessed in my life. Mr. Priestly Smith soon singled me out from the scores of visitors who filled the wards, and under his guardianship I made the round of the estab lishment. The first room I entered was decorated with wreaths of leaves and PrussiaTf^flags. In the centre was a gigantic Christmas tree, covered with all sorts of tasty articles and lighted tapers. Here were paper flowers, here crackers, here cigar cases, here chessmen. With the exception of a few ai tides requiring female manipulation, the whole of the decorations of the ward had been made by the soldiers themselves. Mr. Smith told me that for the last two months his patients have been hard at work cutting and contriving wax flowers and paper wreaths of rosos. He said that even the dying would ask for a pair of scissors and a bundle of tissue. He pointer! out to me a most elaborate decoration that had been entirely constructed by a poor fellow who had died a week ago ! Under the German tree was a representation of the first Christmas night, when our Saviour came into this world, to bring a message of love and peace — a message which finds such a sad commentary in the telegrams from the war and hospitals for the wounded. The representation was unpretending, but well meant. The "wise men" and "the kings," to my English eyes, appeared a little grotesque, but there was no kind of doubt about the spirit of faith and love that had prompted their construction. I may mention here that the nurses are one and all ladies moving in the world ; none of those excellent women, the sisters of charity, arc attached to this institution.

While I was standing by the bedside of one poor fellow, who the doctor told me was fast going to the grave, the

drawing for prizes took place. Every soldier had been provided with a number which had its duplicate on the Christmas tree. A most engaging gentleman (who subsequently made a speech in honour of the Emperor William) called out the number, and the happy holder of the duplicate cheque answered "Here." The drawing was accompanied b) r cheers and shouts of laughter. The glee of the soldiers was the most delightful thing I have seen for years. Their eyes absolutely sparkled with delight as they received their prizes. In addition to the gifts, each patient was loaded with cigars and gingerbread. I asked my guide what the doctors said to all this revelry. "The best thing in the world for them," he replied, "I am sure that this little festival will do them as much good as three weeks' treatment."

The next room I entered was decorated in a similar manner to the one I had just left. It contained a large Christmas tree, having at its base a

wonderful fountain worked by a real steam engine. Both fountain and engine had been made by a patient in leisure hours. Here I may remark that every single tent, even the smallest, was possessed of a Christmas tree, and on every side I found the same contentment, the same joy.

In the next tent was a large plaster bust of King William, the Emperor, decorated Avith a laurel wreath. It was here that the gentleman to whom I have alluded made his speech. He said that Germany was united through the suffering the patients of that hospi tal were oven then undergoing, that an invader had been repulsed and driven off the sacred soil of Fatherland, and that the King was the noblest man in the world. All these remarks were received with the heartiest applause. I I am not sure that in the heat of the moment I did not cheer myself.

" Among bhe patients were many interesting cases. One poor fellow had been an actor, and he knew the role of Hamlet (of course in German) by heart. lie had been shot through the leg at Sedan. Another man spoke English with perfect accent. I found that be had been for six years on board an English merchantman. One poor fellow (who Mr. Smith told me had but a slender chance of recovery) particularly attracted my attention. He certainly looked dreadfully ill. When the kind-hearted nurses brought him his prize from the Christmastree, he tried to smile, but breaking down in the attempt, he drew a blanket over his face, and, from the movement of the bedclothes, I could see that he was sobbing. With the exception of two lively Frenchman (who were immensely delighted with everything about them), all the patients were Germans. Mr. Smith iold me that the authorities of the ambulance have some five hundred men undo: their charge. If the fighting is very severe before Paris they will double that number in the course of a few days. So thoroughly recognised by the Prussian generals is the good done by the ambulance, that a private railway has been laid down between Cologne and the hospital in obedience to an order from head-quarters at Versailles. " After spending an hour in the tents I took my leave. As I left the tapers were beginning to burn down, and the doctors were going their rounds to tend the sick. It was snowing heavily as I passed the sentry on my way home. I turned round to take a last look at the hospital. Already the blaze of light had diminished, and some of the tents were in comparative darkness. Again I heard the sound of voices lifted up in praise of God, now in a glorious hymn. There was a pause — a deep silenre — and the lights disappeared, one after the other until the ambulance was scarcely visible. I could just make out the outline of the building, and the shape of the holy flag with which it was surmounted. Then I turned my face to Cologne with its thousand lights, and passsing once more by the icecovered Rhine, returned home."