and get well, we need you so much." Who of all of you could have had the heart to leave them, with no promise of some other doctor taking your place? The crisis passed, I had a plate of oatmeal mush with two well-beaten raw eggs stirred in after it had cooled enough not to coagulate the albumen; and, three times a day, I had egg custard and ripe bananas boiled in the skin. Remember, bananas thus treated are far more nourishing than is the best cooked beef meat.

I went to work in the office again within ten days; and a month later was in the streets, skipping over the rolling hills of this quaint old city like a young man, although the fracture in the skull continued to ooze for more than six months. My robust, vigorous health, in fact, has in no degree

abated.

While hatred of Americans is almost rabidly intense, I, personally am more popular with every class than any native possibly could be. German propagandists have intensified this hatred, and have wrought the army and a large percentage of the civil population to such a degree that they would have made war on the United States, only the impoverished and destitute condition, which the long-protracted revolution developed, rendered this impossible to attempt, especially with rebels ready to attack such invading army in the rear. But, now, that the high tide of German prosperity is ebbing, there is little cheering hope here of a German victory. Wealth from plundered agriculture and rich American cities and the restitution of Texas, New Mexico, and California comprised the most tempting propaganda the Germans ever offered, and one that really seemed feasible to the duped Mexicans.

Mexico is almost as deplorably ruined as are Belgium, northern France or Russia, the depredations committed by its own native people being almost as atrocious as those of the Germans in the countries named.

There is no hope of a Mexican peace. Possibly a moral pressure by England, France, and the United States might be so employed as to intimidate the hostile spirits, after peace is made in Europe, which now seems to be nearer than we had expected but a short time ago.

I have been tugging at the tense patience of CLINIC readers with the long-winded spirit of the "old story", finished and

mailed to Chicago more than four years ago, so that I am seriously uncertain as to the selection of proper subject matter to interest you.

The revolution, destitution, hunger, misery, and death continue unabated, only more intensified.

I am at a loss for something to say along therapeutic lines, as I am jogging along with my well-confirmed favorite remedies, now fully familiar to the profession. In September, your war-board denied me vaseline, quinine, oil of any kind, and sundry other items once deemed indispensable, thus teaching me to get along very well without them. I have seriously adopted calcium sulphide, in place of quinine, both to break fever and to prevent its recurrence; while "staniloid" does many more good turns than the makers and the profession realize.

You people should be immeasurably proud of your American president, who will majestically tower in the loftiest niche of the temple of immortal fame after the mere names of previous heroes and conquerors have been submerged in the gulf of oblivion. Truly, Wilson had a great America to lead, but, his magnetizing guidance and electrical utterances inspirited the good and intimidated the bad to such a degree that universal "Liberty" will become more than a fleeting dream; and he will be recognized and revered as the creative genius, as Washington was the Father of his Country.

Pichucalco, Mexico.

ROBERT GRAY.

[Doctor Gray's remarkable recovery from the serious injury that he sustained is little short of miraculous. Nor can we be content with passing it off without at least a brief comment. The question obtrudes itself upon the present sent writer's mind whether the great affection and veneration in which the natives hold him, the need that they have of his services, and his own untiring devotion to his work did not combine to mobilize forces and influences which became active in his behalf and brought about his recovery. The days of miracles are past, you say? Perhaps so. The present writer does not believe so, however. Truly, there are more things

At any rate, we trust that Doctor Gray may be spared for his work, and that his strength may continue for long. ED.]

THE MAKING OF AN ARMY
MEDICAL OFFICER
Life at a Base Hospital in France

[Continued from December issue, tro

I was fortunate to hear and see Elsie Janis at one of her first performances for the troops in France. She went from camp to camp, reciting and singing at each, and was received with a roar of enthusiasm everywhere she went. Shortly after her visit, I saw in the papers that a great many of our American theatrical stars were going to follow her example, coming over here to entertain our troops at camp, post, and field. This offer of theirs shows a wonderful spirit and is but one of the incidents that go to show that you who are at home are with us in this big game and are but waiting each for his or her opportunity to do anything possible to help, and in any way possible. The French entertainers have already been doing this for some time. They come and sing at the hut of the Y. M. C. A. for all that can come to hear them and after the performance go to the wards where there are many bed-patients, repeating the entertainment for those. This is highly appreciated by all of us, but, particularly by those that are unable to get out of bed.

Sometimes these entertainments staged by the Y. M. C. A. and sometimes by the Red Cross (American). The American Red Cross was active at this hospital. One of their representatives would distribute the daily papers and magazines through the wards, on other days he would pass out games, stationery, and books, write letters for the patients that were too sick to write their own, and would undertake to straighten out legal affairs at home. They distributed phonographs to many of the wards, changed records as often as possible, placed a safety razor in each ward for the men to shave themselves, had at their hut a miniature circulating library, where patients could get other books to take to their wards. The patients would sign a card for the book, to insure its return when it was

read. Their chaplain held services on Sundays, in the Y. M. C. A. hut, while during the week he visited wards, helping in every way that he could, giving temporal as well as spiritual aid and comfort, accompanied funerals and read services at the graves of the soldiers that had died. A small part of an army-chaplain's duties is, to write to the nearest kin of a soldier that has died, telling the loved ones at home that their soldier lad had had a military funeral, telling where he has been laid to rest, and extending sincere condolences.

One of our nurses died of pneumonia shortly after I arrived at this post. She was given a military funeral. The cortège was led by a brass-band (from a neighboring infantry regiment), then followed, respectively, a firing squad, a soldier carrying a wooden cross, two chaplains and an American Red Cross representative, an automobile ambulance with her remains in a flag-draped coffin, about twenty of our Medical Officers, all the nurses that were off duty or could be spared from their wards, and a detachment of enlisted men of the Medical Department. The band struck up the "Dead-March", and, to the cadence of its slow strains, we wended our way to the cemetery. Arrived there, a short prayer was read by the chaplain, three volleys were fired as the coffin was being lowered into the grave, and then taps was blown on the bugle. She was shown all the respects of comrade-in-arms. Heroes are not all in the front-line trenches.

a

Decoration Day was celebrated by the American troops in France in much the same way as we do in the States. Detachments from the various camps and posts around this section assembled at the American cemetery, where short speeches and prayers were said, while the nurses from our hospital decorated the graves of the American soldiers that were buried there. As a final, taps was blown by a bugler. Taps, or lights-out, the sweet sad strains ringing through the cemetery stir a feeling in the heart that is hard to describe, and,

while listening to it, many a silent vow was made that each would acquit himself or herself creditably of the task laid out for us in this battle for democracy.

The French cooperated to the extent of sending a regiment of their troops from the nearest barracks, to act as escort. A group of French officers came along, also, and were very much impressed and interested by the ceremony. This was a very pretty compliment to our Government, our customs, and our soldier dead.

July Fourth also was celebrated as at home. Here, again, the French people showed their desire to be with us in our celebration. Flags of the Allies were to be seen everywhere along the streets, on buildings, and on vehicles. The American and French flags predominated, and in most cases were grouped with other flags or these two crossed together. Detachments of troops from the different organizations, stationed around the city escorted by detachments from the French and English troops, paraded the downtown streets. As we swung along the Boulevard de l'Océan through two solid lines of cheering people, it took but a small effort of the imagination to think we were back on Michigan Avenue, in the "City of the Lake", where on many a holiday some of us had taken part in just such a parade. The afternoon of the Fourth was, generally, celebrated by field and track meets, by base-ball games, and by sports.

On July 14, the French Independence Day, I happened to be in another city away over at the other side of France, having been ordered there to take a special course in the treatment of shock. All1 American officers in the city were expected to take part in the parade in honor of the day. Parades are as meat and drink to me, and, so, I was at the place of assembly on the morning of the 14th, long before the appointed hour. A reviewing-stand had been erected on one side of the principal parkways, or boulevards. The American officers fell in in double rank, near the stand. Along the boulevard, other detachments of American and French troops assembled. A French general, accompanied by his staff, walked along the line of troops. As he drew near us, we came up stiffly to attention. He quickly came to a salute, smiled and said, "I am very glad to see you here," then asked some of our ranking

officers to accompany him and his staff along the line. At the presentation of medals, we were drawn up in double rank, just behind the French officers and soldiers, who, by virtue of some valorous deed, were there to receive from their appreciative government this token of official recognition.

I had never seen one of these presentations before, so, I was deeply interested. The General read an account of how he had won distinction, ending by saying that in the name of the President of the French Republic he presented him with this medal. He then stepped smartly to the soldier or officer, touched him lightly on each shoulder with his sabre, pinned the medal on the left breast of his tunic, kissed him lightly on each cheek, shook hands with him, adding a few evidently commendatory words, then returned quickly to his place and called out the next one.

After the presentation of honors, the troops marched påst the reviewing-stand, in which were the prefect and many civil and military officers. The American troops were given the post of honor, in the lead. Our troops looked very grim and businesslike in O. D. uniforms and steel trenchhelmets, carrying their rifles with fixed bayonets. They received their fair share of the applause as they swung along with a quick step and excellent alinement. The French troops followed, dressed in their picturesque uniforms. The whole made a very pretty sight; that will not soon be forgotten.

Getting back to our subject of life at the hospital, I feel that I must mention the fact that we had a most excellent mess. Prices of meats and vegetables are higher than in the States, but, thanks to the management of a most efficient "Officer's Mess Officer", we had very good meals at a dollar a day. Our mess-hall was decorated with Liberty Loan posters, to cover the otherwise severely plain boards. Strung across the rafters, were small Allies' flags, while over the two doorways we had groups of larger flags of all the Allies.

A mobile surgical team was formed from among the surgeons at the hospital, ready to leave at any time and for any place where the need was great. Gas-teams were formed, also, specially instructed, and ready to leave at any time for any part of the front or near the front, where the gas cas

ualties were greater than the local force of surgeons and nurses could handle consistent with the really excellent service that our Government wants the troops to have. I feel that the Medical Department is gaining its fair share of credit in this war, as well as are the rest of our troops. My lucky star is still with me, for, I was chosen for one of these gas-teams, and I am eagerly waiting orders to go forward.

In an Army Hospital, the ward-surgeon is allowed perfect freedom in his method of treatment. He is responsible for the property therein, and, in general, is the law, so far as that ward is concerned. Second in command is the nurse. When neither the surgeon nor the nurse is there, then the ward-master is in charge. The wardmaster's duties are many and varied. He must see to the proper policing (cleaning) of the ward, that the walking patients take their showers regularly, reports to get ready for the ward-surgeon, supplies and clean linen brought over to the ward daily and the soiled linen taken to the laundry, that urine, feces, sputum, and other specimens are taken over to the laboratory daily, care of the stoves, drink

ing-water, and help in the serving of meals. He must see to it that all patients admitted while he is in charge are sponged off and put to bed between clean sheets. That the patient has drinking-water and a sputumcup on the little bedside table, and that his temperature, pulse, and respiration are taken. He must be prepared, in the absence of the nurse, to assist at many minor operations, spinal puncture and paracenteses, dressings and enemas. In fact, the wardmaster must be a male nurse as well as a good handler of men. These ward-masters are picked from the enlisted personnel. Το help them master their many duties, a class was started, where for an hour three times a week some of our medical officers lectured to them and gave them practical demonstrations in bedmaking, giving of enemas, fitting splints, giving first aid, et cetera. In these talks, it was outlined to them that, as the first requisite of the medical department in time of war is the return of men as soon as possible to duty, much depending upon the intelligent cooperation of the ward-master.

At our hospital, we had as many as three chaplains at one time. An Episcopalian, a Hebrew, and a Roman Catholic chaplain were here for some time, so that all desiring spiritual aid and comfort could obtain it. These chaplains usually were real men's men, good mixers, and well liked by men and officers alike.

While I was here, the Third Liberty Loan was floated. There was no direct soliciting of the A. E. F. The greater part of the Loan, and its pleasing oversubscription, was taken by the people at home. Had there been a campaign here, I have no doubt that a great many bonds would have been sold. There are none of us over here but that are willing and anxious

to back ourselves to win, as we have proven by our subscriptions to the first and second loan. It is pleasing, indeed, however, to see the support that our people at home are giving us in the many phases of this war, not the least of which is this matter of buying bonds. The fact that the Third Liberty Loan was oversubscribed makes us who are fortunate enough to be in the Service more proud than ever that we are Americans. I often read of the pride of country that a person has when away from his own land in a foreign country, but, being somewhat of a homeguard, I had never before had the opportunity of experiencing this. I can tell you, though, in

CAT

DR. ROBERT C. MURPHY,
Lieut. M. C., U. S. Α.

Author of the interesting articles on "The Making of an Army Medical Officer."

all sincerity and from personal experience, that it is a glorious feeling.

In France.

ROBERT C. MURPHY,

1st Lt. M. R. C., Base Hospital 101.