Mad Jack (Scene 8) Poem by John Fenton Mcleish

mad jack
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scene 800
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Siegfried hurries down a small brae towards the battlefield.The first unit he comes to is the medical/red cross corps.
About a dozen large hospital tents, with big red crosses on the top, are lined up in rows.
Further back, in the distance is a light train used for transporting the wounded back to the port and then england.
Medics and soldiers are loading the carriages with the wounded.
Coming up the trail is a line of stretcher bearers.
Following the strercher bearers is a line of walking wounded.
Siegfried steps to the side of the path to let the stretchers pass.As he does so he looks down and notices a somewhat delerious soldier, mumbling incoherently, lying on a stretcher and covered with a blanket.Just a boy, maybe sixteen or seventeen.
Siegfried kneels down beside him, takes a handkerchief from his pocket and wipes the boys forehead.
The boy suddenly grabs siegfrieds arm and looks into his eyes, 'My legs, sir.Are my legs still there? '
Siegfried lifts the lower portion of the blanket and looks underneath.
The boys legs are gone.The stumps are bandaged, but the wounds are not sealed.
Without proper medical attention, the boy will be dead in minutes.
Siegfried turns to the boy and assures him, 'Don't worry soldier, your going to be just fine.You'll be up and about in no time.'
Siegfried takes his rum flask and gives him a drink.
He lifts the boys head slightly and he gulps it down.The boy rests his head back on the stretcher and continues mumbling.
A voice calls out to siegfried, 'Sir, please sir.Can I have some.I haven't had a drink all day'
Another wounded soldier lying on a stretcher.
Siegfried hurries over to him and gives him the flask.The soldier grabs it and gulps it down, 'Thank you, sir'.
While the soldiers guzzling his rum, siegfried stands up and looks around.Thousands of men lie on stretchers, in the open air, waiting for their turn in the hospital.
(Most wounded men die, not from their wounds, but from infection.Sanitation in the trenches is appalling.Antibiotics and penicillin haven't been discovered yet and the only disinfectant at hand is salt water.Open wounds in these conditions means certain death.Cholera, typhoid, dyssentry, foot rot, lice, rats etc are rampant.
Siegfried kneels down again and wipes the soldiers brow.The soldier finishes the rum and hands the flask back to siegfried, 'Thank you, sir'
Siegfried, 'Hang in there old chap, you'll be down the pub with your mates soon, don't you worry'
Siegfried shakes the soldiers hand and they part.It's getting dark and the glow from small cooking fires stretching into the darkness, resembles, to a certain extent, a swarm of fire flies.
Siegfried again, heads towards the front line.
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// this poem may contain copying errors