The spectator., 1919-04-11

 tions as to what chance the Tommics had of reaching their coveted goal. believe they all envied the man under ether, because with left foot miss ing, he was sure to be sent to Blighty A sergeant major of the Royal Army Medical corps entered the ward. The medical men promptly stood at atten- ton, except one or two who were taking care of serious cases. The ser geant major ordered:
 Get this ward in shape. The M. o. Is coming through in five minutes to inspect cases and clear out"
 The medical men went from cot to cot, carefully smoothing out blankets, tucking in loose ends and picking up flag ends" Cigarette butts).
 The sergeant major left.
 In about ten minutes the door opened again and, with smart "shun" from the sergeant major dead si- lence reigned in the ward. The medi- cal men all came to attention, then the doctor entered, followed by a clerk and a R. A. M. c. sergeant. He stopped at each cot, carefully read the tag on the wounded man occupy ing it, passed a few remarks which the clerk jotted down on pad of paper, and as he left each wounded soldier he made a cheering remark to him.
 When he came to me he asked:
 "Well. how are you feeling, my lad?" at the same time stooping over my tag.
 "Hum-three rife bullets; we'll. my lucky fellow, 1t means England for you"
 I could have kissed that doctor.
 Then he passed to the Irishman on my right. Stopping over him. he said:
 "How are you, my lad?
 The Irishman answered:
 "Tm d-d sick and I want to get out of here; I want to get out of here, out of this draft. Every tin minutes they're openin' and a-shutt.n' that door,"
 The doctor. with wink, turned to the R. A. M. c. sergeant and said:
 "Shrapnel, left foot, knee and right breast. I see no reason why this man won't be ready for duty in couple of days"
 The Irishman, with a yell, an swered:
 "Dooty; how the h-l can I do dooty when I can't walk?"
 The doctor answered.:
 "That will be all right, my lad. We'll fix you up with cushy job at brigade headquarters, pounding typewriter"
 The Irishman, with groan of dis gust, addressing nobody in particu- lar, sighed:
 "Out since Mons, and I end up workin' bloody typewriter at head quarters. Stick me in skirts and I'll go as a manicurist."
 The doctor. paying no attention to this remark, went to the next case and soon left the ward.
 AS soon as the door closed string of oaths came from the Irishman:
 "POundin' = typewriter at headquarters; just like the bloody British army; what in h-l do know about one of those writin' machines? Just my luck. Why couldn't that shell have hit me in the hands. But I s'pose if I'd lost my bloody hands they'd made tight-rope walker out O me. Win this war-what hopes"
 The Tommies were eagerly ques- tioning each other:
 "What did he sye to you?" Are you good for Blighty?" "He marked England on my tagw What does base hospital mean? Does it mean that I'm to stick it out in this bloody mud while you blokes are a-goin' 10 Blighty?" etc.
 Pretty soon a stretcher bearer en- tered. carrying little oblong green box. which, we all knew, contained cigarettes. He was greeted with a chorus of:
 "Gimme a flag, mate; I'm all out Come on, chum. don't forget me. That's a good fellow. Let's have one"
 Pretty soon every Tommy who was able had lighted flag between his lips, and sigh of content went up as he inhaled deep drafts of the smoke. I certainly enjoyed mine.
 The sergeant major again entered The medical men came. to attention. In crisp tones he ordered:
 "Get the convoy for England ready Look alive; the ambulances are ex pected any minute" 1 The stretcher bearers entered, bus tling about, and the ward was in an uproar. Then, outside. could be heard the chugging engines of the waiting ambulances.
 As each fortunate Tommy was car ried out the more unfortunate ones, who were to be left behind at the base hospital, bravely wished him a Good luck. mate; give my regards to Trafalgar square. Be careful and don't lose your watch in Petticoat lane. Give Ger my love-" l Au