In April of 1918, a Canadian casualty clearing station had been newly set up, in the emergency of that critical time, at a hamlet called Pernes somewhere near Bethune in Flanders. The surgical "teams," as they were called, hurriedly assembled from where they could be spared, were working on day and night shifts like factory hands to keep abreast of the raw material fed in to them. We dealt with wounds—not the man. For him we had no time. Some far away government took that responsibility and is still paying for it. In the midst of this, on an afternoon while in the course of one more gruesome task, I was suddenly told by a much annoyed Commanding Officer that orders had been received from the A. E. F. for me to report forthwith at a place called Langres.
Anything may happen in time of war, and one asks not
CUSHING H. MEDICINE AT THE CROSSROADS. JAMA. 1933;100(20):1567–1575. doi:10.1001/jama.1933.02740200001001
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