A war nurse's diary : sketches from a Belgian field hospital . bout threemiles away. Our life was a complex thing to de-scribe; there was a constant coming and going ofoutsiders. People came to Furnes to see things—great people. The college being large—and otheraccommodation in the Town nil, we put them up,and they were our guests for the time being. Attached to us was a most interesting body ofpeople, The Munro Ambulance Corps. was its chief. He is now Sir Hector him, driving ambulances, were many well-known people; just a few names I remember—LadyDorothy Feilding, the eld
A war nurse's diary : sketches from a Belgian field hospital . bout threemiles away. Our life was a complex thing to de-scribe; there was a constant coming and going ofoutsiders. People came to Furnes to see things—great people. The college being large—and otheraccommodation in the Town nil, we put them up,and they were our guests for the time being. Attached to us was a most interesting body ofpeople, The Munro Ambulance Corps. was its chief. He is now Sir Hector him, driving ambulances, were many well-known people; just a few names I remember—LadyDorothy Feilding, the eldest son of General Melisse,head of the Belgian R. A. M. C, Dr. Jellett, theDublin gynaecologist; Claude and Alice Askew, thenovelists (since drowned in a submarine attack);Miss McNaughton, authoress; Mrs. Knocker andMiss Chisholme; Mr. Hunt of Yokohama and , a great sport and our good friend. Alltheir ambulances were stored in our front yard,numbering over twenty. With them were four The Munro Ambulance CorpsLady Dorothy Feilding in foreground. Refugee nuns peeled potatoes and washed dishes FURNES 55 jolly young gentlemen-amateur chauffeurs who soonbecame our friends. These people worked mostlyat night, gathering the wounded and removing themunder cover of darkness. We received all thosewho could not travel further into France. Our dining-room was great! It was really thekitchen. A big stove covered with immense potsoccupied one side. In front of it stood our chef,an ex-patient named Maurice. He was the sunniestfellow I ever met. He came in with the first batchof Furnes wounded, shot through the throat. Whenhe laughed it sounded like a tin whistle blown by anamateur. He had been a cook, and when he waswell the Queen gave him to us as chef. He wore abakers cap and apron, presiding at all the festivi-ties. Under him were seven refugee nuns in volu-minous black dresses and white caps like peeled potatoes and washed dishes. Therewere three trestle-tabl
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Keywords: ., bookcentury1900, bookdecade1910, bookid0111, booksubjectworldwari
