I had met this
officer's father, Colonel Hamilton, who resided in my neighbourhood at
home.
During the night several wounded men came in, and the large salon
presented a weird appearance as the doctors attended the suffering men.
No cooking was allowed, and all windows were carefully curtained, in
order not to draw the fire of the enemy, who were in very unpleasant
proximity to the house. I well remember next morning, because the
Germans had got the range to a nicety, and the otherwise enjoyable place
was rendered unbearable by the crash of shells. So unhealthy grew the
position, that the transport was moved a mile away; but we who composed
the tent section remained to deal with any men who were brought in. It
is astonishing how quickly one grows accustomed to 'fire,' and a very
short experience enabled us to go about our work, under risky
circumstances, in the most ordinary manner.
The nights at this time were very dark, and at several points we could
see burning farm homesteads and villages, which to the thoughtful mind
denoted the awful destruction and suffering envolved by the ghastly
outrage upon humanity, being perpetrated by the enemy.
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