A regiment of
Belgian infantry came plodding through the mud, covered with whitish
clay even to their top-hats. They were earth-men, with the blanched
look of creatures who live below ground. The news was whispered
about that the enemy was breaking through along one of the roads
between Nieuport and Fumes. Then the report came through that
they had smashed their way to Wulpen.
"We hope to hold them," said an officer, "but Fumes is in danger. It
will be necessary to clear out."
In consequence of this report, it was necessary to be quick in the
search for the wounded who had been struck down in the night. The
medical men were resolute not to go until they had taken in all that
could be removed in time. A little crowd of them were in a small villa
along the road. They were wet to the skin and quite famished, without
food or drink. A car went back for hot coffee and bread. There was
another group of wounded in the church of Oudecapelle.
They were bad cases, and lay still upon the straw. I shall never forget
the picture of that church with its painted statues huddled together
and toppled down. St. Antony of Padua and St. Sebastian were there
in the straw, and crude pictures of saints on the walls stared down
upon those bodies lying so quiet on the floor.
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