BORN UNDER FIRE.

Sun (Christchurch), Volume I, Issue 267, 15 December 1914, Page 8

BORN UNDER FIRE.

BIRTH IN A CELLAR.

A medical officer of the Royal Army Medical Corps writes to the '' British Medical Journal":—

"Imagine a very small village, situated in the shadow of a wooded ridge of hill, and above the village limestone caves, and above the caves reserve trenches, then trenches and wire entanglements, then the dead whom neither side could remove, and then the Germans crowning their slope of hills as we do ours. Within 200 yards of our most advanced trenches, and continually under shell fire, what remains of the civil life of the village goes on day by day. In the caves are our dressing stations and our wounded. The officers live in a farmhouse near the caves —or did until three days ago, when shell fire sent us back to the caves to sleep. And in the village some houses are wrecked —a few—and most are stripped of furniture and valuables. These the inhabitants have taken down to large underground refuges—half cellar and half cave.

"Standing by the caves one day —a quiet day, with a little firing since one big bombardment at about 7 a.m.—a message was brought me by a sergeant that 'a lady wanted a doctor to sec someone who had been hurt in the village.' Putting on a haversack which contained most things necessary for the ordinary casualties of war, I went with the guides —'two ladies.' They led me to a cellar with one door and no other light. On the left of the door was a space reaching the depth of the cave, and cut off by wire netting. In this were chickens. On the extreme right was inky darkness. Nearer to me on the right was a woman in bed. Beyond her another mattress on the floor, at her feet two children asleep. In front of me as I entered was a pile of household goods, and, as in our own country, there were not wanting neighbours. "My servant had followed me, although not at my suggestion, but on perceiving an obviously new-born babo I sent him away. The babe had been born the night before, was very neatly and cleanly wrapped up, and should be a credit to its country. "Necessary medical attention being given, a fee was offered, but declined. An hour or two later —an hour of terror for the chickens —my servant was given what appeared to bo a fine chicken. Alasl it proved'later to be uncommonly tough. Even so, I was amply rewarded by'the mere sight of roast chieken. The few inhabitants now in this village live largely on our bully beef, eggs (when the chickens are obliging), and field produce. There is no bread or milk. We were relieved next day, and I did not see my patient again, but possibly the whole imrdent may interest you as a picture of tilings as they are in one small spot of the great battle-line.''