the journey, for there is no nationality among wounded, and we could not
bear even German patients to undergo unnecessary suffering. But my
remonstrances were quite in vain, and one could not help wondering what
would become of _our_ wounded if the Germans treated their own so
harshly. I heard from other ambulances that it was their experience as
well as mine that the lightly wounded were very well looked after, but
the severely wounded were often very inconsiderately treated. They were
no longer any use as fighting machines and only fit for the scrap-heap.
It is all part of the German system. They are out for one purpose only,
that is to win--and they go forward with this one end in
view--everything else, including the care of the wounded, is a
side-issue and must be disregarded and sacrificed if necessary.

We prepared the men as well as we could for the long ride in the wagons
that must precede the still longer train journey. Once on the
ambulance-train, however, they would be well looked after; it was the
jolting on the country road I feared for many of them. None of us were
permitted to accompany them to Charleroi station, but the driver of one
of the wagons told me afterwards that the man with the amputated leg had
been taken out dead at the station, as he had had a severe hæmorrhage on
the way, which none of his comrades knew how to treat. He also told us
that all the big hospitals at Charleroi were evacuating their German
wounded, and that he had seen two other men taken out of carts quite
dead. We took this to mean very good news for us, thinking that the
Germans must have had a severe reverse to be taking away their wounded
in such a hurry. So we waited and hoped, but as usual nothing happened
and there was no news.

We had a very joyful free sort of feeling at having got rid of the
German patients. The French soldiers began to sing The Marseillaise as