In one evacuated village, Florence Bullard’s (see Part 1 of the
story) crew was forced to work from a hospital cellar, which she
described as a cave. Under very harsh conditions, they treated
the severely wounded soldiers who couldn’t be moved elsewhere.
In a letter home, she noted, “I have not seen daylight for eight
days now and the stench in this cave is pretty bad; no air,
artificial light, and the cots so close together you can just
get between them. “The noise of the bursting shells is terrific
at times. Side by side I have Americans, English, Scotch, Irish,
and French, and apart in the corners are ‘Boche’ [a disparaging
term applied to German soldiers]. They all have to watch each
other die, side by side. I have had to write many sad letters to
American mothers.” A bit later she wrote, “I have been three
weeks now in this cave. It’s a dark, damp, foul-smelling place,
but there is help to give and one must not complain. But it is
terribly depressing and, for the first time, I find myself in a
bit of a n