The most vivid impression which remains of those French hospitals,
however, was the lack of fresh air in them; seldom have I breathed a
more vitiated atmosphere. Though it was a warm, pleasant day outside,
every window in the hospital was closed tight.
It is another indication of the strong scientific contradictions
sometimes met with. Though, in theory, the French are most excellent
sanitarians and as a country revere the name of Pasteur, while we have
forgotten, if we ever did know, the name of Lister, in practice they
are about as poor a nation in practical sanitation as it is possible
to be. Imagine a hospital, thoroughly equipped and clean as a new pin,
with such bad air that one of our party fainted and another had to
leave in a hurry to escape the same fate.
After an excellent lunch at the town hotel we left by motors and
char-a-banc for the field hospitals. The drive of some twelve miles
was made over the chalk plains of the Champagne and the dense clouds
of white dust, raised by the cars ahead, half smothered us. The only
trees on this rolling country were scrub evergreens and only enough of
these had been left for cover, the rest having been cut for stakes,
and pit props. Through these bits of woods and across the open country
ran the numerous white ditches used for reserve trenches.
The field hospitals themselves were as fine as I have ever seen in
equipment and appearance.
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