The Red Glutton: With the German Army at the FrontCobb, Irvin S. (Irvin Shrewsbury)
History
The Red Glutton: With the German Army at the Front
Cobb, Irvin S. (Irvin Shrewsbury)
World War, 1914-1918 -- Campaigns -- Western Front; World War, 1914-1918 -- Personal narratives
In the towns in occupied territory the cemeteries were the only
actively and constantly busy spots to be found, except the hospitals.
Every schoolhouse was a hospital; indeed I think there can be no
schoolhouse in the zone of actual hostilities that has not served such
a purpose. In their altered aspects we came to know these schoolhouses
mighty well. We would see the wounded going in on stretchers and the
dead coming out in boxes. We would see how the blackboards, still
scrawled over perhaps with the chalked sums of lessons which never were
finished, now bore pasted-on charts dealing in nurses' and surgeons'
cipher-manual, with the bodily plights of the men in the cots and on
the mattresses beneath. We would see classrooms where plaster casts
and globe maps and dusty textbooks had been cast aside in heaps to
make room on desktops and shelves for drugs and bandages and surgical
appliances. We would see the rows of hooks intended originally for the
caps and umbrellas of little people; but now from each hook dangled the
ripped, bloodied garments of a soldier--gray for a German, brown-tan
for an Englishman, blue-and-red for a Frenchman or a Belgian. By the
German rule a wounded man's uniform must be brought back with him from
the place where he fell and kept handily near him, with tags on it, to
prove its proper identity, and there it must stay until its owner needs
it again--if ever he needs it again.
We would see these things, and we would wonder if these schoolhouses
could ever shake off the scents and the stains and the memories of
these present grim visitations--wonder if children would ever frolic
any more in the courtyards where the ambulances stood now with red
drops trickling down from their beds upon the gravel. But that, on our
part, was mere morbidness born of the sights we saw. Children forget
even more quickly than their elders forget, and we knew, from our own
experience, how quickly the populace of a French or Flemish community
could rally back to a colorable counterfeit of their old sprightliness,
once the immediate burdens of affliction and captivity had been lifted
from off them.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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