"This
wasn't the idea at all, I was not to be wounded. Why am I here?" One
suddenly felt the brutal inanity of modern warfare; one felt that if the
ones who had started this war could only be forced to spend three months
in a war hospital, receiving and undressing the fruits of their plots,
they would have a different view of the glory and honour of battle.
Each man had sewn in his belt some talisman to protect him from
danger--small brass or lead image or medal, bought from the village
priest.
There was confusion at first, for almost all were new to their tasks;
the barbers were carrying stretchers when they ought to have been
barbering; the clippers were scrubbing instead of doing their proper
work; but, nevertheless, it was marvellously rapid. The motor tore back
to the station, and by the time it had returned its first load had been
washed, shaved, arrayed in clean pyjamas, and either lay in bed in the
ward, or were waiting their turn outside the operating theatre.
Mr. Berry was hard at work: there were several cases shot through the
brain, one through the lungs, one through the heart, and one through the
spine; this latter was paralysed.
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