The Birmingham age-herald., 1917-12-09


 "Oyer the top" at Camp McCle l army are being whipped into line 1 To this hospital amputation cases from all over the Dominion are sent, reoperat- ed upon, if necessary; cast is taken ! of the stump and the limb Is made, fitted and practiced for a certain length of time For to six months must elapse aft l CT an operation before the stump is shrunk to normal size and it must be I massaged and exercised functionly re- ! educated. to use the technical term Meanwhile the men are not idle. Eager 1 ly they are taking up some branch of the vocational work offered. In the majority of cases this is true in ali stages of convalescence-from the men stfll con- | fined to bed to those on crutches or new, all-too- strange limbs Still Fighting Battle To the visitor. at sfst, the hospital and environs present a pathetic sight Here are men, who have been through | terrific conflict lover there" still fight ! ing over here for their chance in life I to carry on." The nearby streets were filled with soldiers, trying painfully. haltingly to use their artificial limbs. Five or six steps at time; then the limb would wobble and shake D1sap- pointment and Encouragement were on the faces but never despair. An auto | mobile drew up in front of the main en- trance. Four men on crutches got out : the fifth sat there. An attendant ran down the steps and lifted him out of the machine. Both legs were gone He was put into wheei-chair and taken into the hospital.
 | The hospital has 45o beds bnt .s00 patients are on the strength of it. A cosmopolitan crowd is gathered under it's roof; Russians, Icelanders Scotch Irish French, Americans, West Indians, South Africans, Australians, Belgians, all of whom enlisted in Canada. Four or five operations is the average for day On the day of my visit there were 90 bed cases. Many were doing the occupational work-emb roidery. beading. knitting and weaving. Private Bell, a great big Scotchman of the first contingent showed with childlike pride the em- broidery that had brought him first prize at the Toronto exhibition. From came snatches of They Can't Kill Us,'' and
 want to go home, want to 20 home.
 The bullets they whistle, the can- mons they roar.
 don't want to go to the trenches
 no more,
 
 Iemans can't get me,
 Oh my, don't want to die, want to
 go home.
 The large recreation room on the ground floor was the center of attrac- tion at the hour of my visit. At the billiard table, one-legaed man with his crutch laid aside and cue in it's place, was meeting all corners on un- equal terms--and, in sense, personi- lying the genius of the place. In ar : other corner, poker game was in progress.
 Garry on, carry on, carry on, carry
 on,
 Carry on to fight the foe, carry on that our sons may ever rule
 the seas.
 Who lives-if England dies?
 Are we downhearted, No, no. no For little British goes long, long
 way,
 Carry on to fight the foe.
 There at the piano in his wheel chair. was the man with no legs, strumming chords, while a group gathered around to sing some of their trench songs. Parodies seem to be fayorites and instead of "A Little Bit
 
 Sure little bit of shrapne1 fell from
 out of the sky oen day, Ana 1t nestled in my shoulder in a
 tender, loving way. And when the doctor saw 1t, sure if
 looked so sweet and fair, He said you'll go to BliRhty. and ] they'll fix you up right there. So he painted it with iodine to keen
 the germs away.
 T1s the only thing to stop them, so
 all the doctors say, But before I left his office. sure he'd
 changed his wicked mind, And he marked me fit for duty. and
 he sent me up the line"
 'Howdy, Davy, give us love song" David. young Scotchman with glu- rious tenor voice, cheerfully compiled with
 I've lost my sandbags and shovel, I've lost my smoke helmet. too, I've lost my emergency ration. To last mo the whole day through. I've lost my rifle and bayonet. I've lost my haversack, too. I've lost my holdall. I've devil a thing
 at all, Since met you"
 OAVlUS STORY At first all David would tell of him self was I'm the guy that killed GO. Hath" But when his friendship had been won, the story came out. oriui- naliy from the Island of Shetland. he l was working for the Royal Canadian l Yacht club in Toronto, when the war broke out It was at the battle of l the Somme that he sscaught his | blighty." We had our round of rum and over the top. Had to ksep on vo- | Ing. Thought no more of Killing a . man than breaking this match The | Boches are poor sports when you Sct | em cornered, they como out of their | trenches with their hands over their reads Even If they don't know any English. they all can say, Mercy. [ Kamerade." But lot of good 1t docs | em. most of the time. I took a little lid prisoner-o only IS years old---he.d A ,eaH in just a month Said his ssNut@ er" told him to be captured if K Il ould. I'd gone over tho first trench l1 md on to the second, when fell like N ] log. Four wounds in my right ieg 'elow the knee; above. tho bone was hattereds and the muscle lying split pen on the side. I managed to push he flesh back, tic my handkerchief round and wind 1t with my puttee to eep from bleeding to death. iay here two days and night men were roaming all around me, expected l 3 be killed every second.n j ! But, David, minus his right Ter. waa | lere to tell the tale. and cheer aif | 'ith another sond: Keep your head down, Alieman. keeo
 your head down. Alleman. ast nisp n the pale mooRlight. wrr n <y.ru ,x<ksu T