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[Page 147]
thirsty as I had had nothing to eat or drink since I was hit, and I had lost a lot of blood, so much indeed that I marvelled that I lived. He got a tube, and pushed it down my nose into my throat and gave me two cups of tea through it, each swallow was like a stab in my throat it was real hell, Mrs Pankhurst was a heroine and her name ought to be writ in letters of gold.
I was put on Princess Christian hospital train that evening for Rouen, where I was put in a big hospital. Next day they discovered I was in the wrong hospital and I was put in a red cross car, and run for about 3 miles through Rouen to another hospital. Weak as I was I was keenly interested in watching the streets as the car sped through them. It is a fine city, with lots of trees in the streets. In better times, I would like to have seen the place where Joan of Arc was burned. I was lodged in a wooden hospital and Chloroformed, they removed the bits of broken bone and put 2 stiches in the wound. And then nature started to withdraw the poison from the bruise it was just like phlegm choking one all the time, and it was impossible for me to sleep more than 2 hours a night and all the liquids I got to drink I used to spill all over myself, getting about 20% down the right way. In this hospital were some men with some dreadful wounds one would not think they could live 5 minutes with them and yet up the line I have seen men killed with hardly a mark on them. One man had his chin right off, another had his side cut open for half way round nearly.
On the 5th of September I was put on the train for Havre, I was just able to sit up that was all, and look out of the window, and it is a very pretty journey indeed. On arrival in Havre I was put on the Carisbrooke