After we had had a long week of night and day work, two more of my
nurses suddenly turned up at the hospital. They had most unexpectedly
got a message that I had sent in by hand to Brussels, begging for nurses
and saying how hard pressed we were, and had got permission to come out
in a Red Cross motor-ambulance. I was, of course, delighted to see them,
and with their help we soon settled down into the ordinary routine of
hospital life, and forgot we were prisoners under strict supervision,
having all kinds of tiresome rules and regulations to keep.

The question of supplies was a very difficult one from the first. We
were short of everything, very short of dressings, chloroform and all
kinds of medical supplies, and especially (even worse in one way) very
short of hospital linen such as sheets and towels and shirts and
drawers, and we had the greatest difficulty in getting anyone to come
and wash for us. One might have thought that with almost every one out
of work, there would have been no lack of women; but the hospital was a
long way from the nearest town and I suppose they were afraid to come;
also, of course, many, very many, had had their houses burnt, lost their
all and fled away. The food question was a very difficult one also. We
had to live just from day to day and be thankful for small mercies.
Naturally for ourselves it would not have mattered at all, but it _did_
matter very much for our poor patients, who were nearly all very ill.
Meat was always difficult often impossible to get, and at first there
was no bread, which, personally, I missed more than anything else;
afterwards we got daily rations of this. Butter there was none; eggs and
milk very scarce, only just enough for the very severely wounded.
Potatoes and lentils we had in great quantities, and on that diet one
would never starve, though it was not an ideal one for sick men.

I remember one morning when we had only potatoes for the men's dinner;