In an hour or so my face was commencing to throb violently, and I hunted up the nearest dressing station, which was a casualty clearing station, and addressed myself to the nurse.

“What’s the matter, Canada?” she asked, looking at my jaw.

“Why, I got hit, nurse.”

“I can plainly see that, but what makes it that color?  It looks like gangrene!  Come in and see the doctor.”

He examined me and found there was a piece left sticking there; I would have to be operated on at once, he said, and there was no time lost getting down to business.  He extracted a small splinter.

“See that this man is put to bed at once; gangrene has just started.”

When I got off the table my face was so bound up in bandages that only my nose and one eye were visible.

“Go to bed, now,” said the nurse.  “Oh, no, I can’t,” I said; “I have got to leave at once.”

“No, no, you mustn’t do anything of the kind; you must go to bed at once and have the closest care for some weeks.”  She fixed up a cot for me in the station and I went to bed.  After lying there for three hours I asked her if I might go up to the station and get my kit, that I had some valuable souvenirs I didn’t want to lose, and that I would like to present her with some of them.  She let me go, and at the station I saw some box cars going through.  Grabbing my kit, I slung myself aboard and reached a station by nightfall, where I got off and waited for the through train, which finally came along.  The fellows on board with whom I had become acquainted on the way down, told me the hospital orderly was searching for me high and low.

After another wearisome day aboard those unspeakable box-cars, I reached the base.  My jaw, although not throbbing so fiercely, was still painfully troublesome, and I sought out one of the hospitals and had to swallow the unwelcome news that the condition of my face was such that it would be necessary to luxuriate in a hospital bed for a week or ten days, which I did.

The kindness of the nurses was beyond praise, and the efforts for the wounded men left nothing to be desired; there was absolutely every provision for the health and well-being of the men.  The wonderful organization of the British Red Cross and its workings in this war will go down through the pages of history as the one spot in the nation’s management of the campaign that is absolutely flawless.

At the end of ten days I was permitted to leave the hospital, with the understanding that I would take good care of myself and report daily for dressing.  I then went to the Y.M.C.A., making my home there for three or four days, and here, also the treatment accorded me was most praiseworthy; the provision made for the men’s recreation will remain a lasting tribute to this most beneficial organization.