’In some of the general hospitals, orderlies were on duty for thirty-six hours in forty-eight, and what their duties were—­how sordid and obscene—­let those who have been through such an epidemic tell.

’He is not a picturesque figure, the orderly, as we know him.  We have not the trim, well-nourished army man, but we have recruited from the St. John Ambulance men, who are drawn, in this particular instance, from the mill hands of a northern town.  They were not very strong to start with, and the poor fellows are ghastly now.  There is none of the dash and glory of war about the sallow, tired men in the dingy khaki suits—­which, for the sake of the public health, we will hope may never see England again.  And yet they are patriots, these men; for many of them have accepted a smaller wage in order to take on these arduous duties, and they are facing danger for twelve hours of the twenty-four, just as real and much more repulsive than the scout who rides up to the strange kopje, or the gunner, who stands to his gun with a pom-pom quacking at him from the hill.

’Let our statistics speak for themselves; and we make no claim to be more long-suffering than our neighbours.  We have three on the staff (Mr. Gibbs, Mr. Scharlieb, and myself).  Four started, but one left us early in the proceedings.  We have had six nurses, five dressers, one wardmaster, one washerman, and eighteen orderlies, or thirty-two in all, who actually came in contact with the sick.  Out of the six nurses, one has died and three others have had enteric.  Of the five dressers, two have had severe enteric.  The wardmaster has spent a fortnight in bed with veldt sores.  The washerman has enteric.  Of the eighteen orderlies, one is dead, and eight others are down with enteric.  So that out of a total of thirty-four we have had seventeen severe casualties—­fifty per cent.—­in nine weeks.  Two are dead, and the rest incapacitated for the campaign, since a man whose heart has been cooked by a temperature over 103 degrees is not likely to do hard work for another three months.  If the war lasts nine more weeks, it will be interesting to see how many are left of the original personnel.  When the scouts and the Lancers and the other picturesque people ride in procession through London, have a thought for the sallow orderly, who has also given of his best for his country.  He is not a fancy man—­you do not find them in enteric wards—­but for solid work and quiet courage you will not beat him in all that gallant army.’

Dr. Conan Doyle has told the story of the hospital orderly, but who shall tell the story of the doctor and the hospital nurse.  In many cases they have laid down their lives for the men, and all have worked with a devotion that has seemed well-nigh super-human.  But a medical staff sufficient for two army corps was altogether insufficient to supply the needs of an army of 200,000 and fight an epidemic of terrible severity.  They did their best.  Some person the country will blame, but to these who so nobly worked and endured the country will say, ‘Well done!’