 CHAPTER X The Austrians, after their defeat at the Battle of the Ridges in October 1914, had retreated out of the country, leaving behind them filthy hospitals crowded with wounded, Austrian and Serb alike. The whole land has been spoken of as one vast hospital. From this condition of things sprang the scourge of Typhus, which started in January 1915, and swept the land. Dr. Saltau and her unit, arriving in the early part of January, were able to take their place in the battle against this scourge. Their work lay in Kraguivac, in the north of Serbia, where Dr. Saltau soon had three hospitals under her command. In April Dr. Saltau contracted diphtheria. Dr. Ingels was wired for, and left for Serbia in the end of April 1915. She went gaily. There seemed no other word to describe her attitude of mind. She was so glad to go. The sufferings of the wounded and dying touched her keenly. It was not guant of sympathy with all the awful misery on every hand that made her go with such joy of heart, but rather she was glad from the sense that at last she personally would be where the need was greatest. This had always been her objective. The Aegean Sea, May 2, 1915 Dear Esteva We have had a perfectly glorious voyage from Brindisi to Athens, all yesterday between the coast and the Greek islands, and then in the Gulf of Corinth. I never remember such a day. All day the sun shine in the beautiful hills, with the clouds capping them, or lying on their slopes, and the blue sky above and blue sea all around. Then came the most glorious sunset, and when we came up from dinner the sky blazing with stars. We put our chairs back to the last notches and lay looking at them, till a great yellow moon came up and flooded the place with light and put the stars out. It was glorious. Your loving sister, Elsie Ingels She landed in Serbia when the epidemic of fever had been almost overcome, and with a long peaceful summer ahead of her. It is a joy to think of Dr. Ingels all that summer. Her letters are full of buoyancy of spirit. She was keen about everything. She had left behind her a magnificent organization, enthusiastic women in every department, the money flowing in, and the scheme meeting with more and more approval throughout the country. In Serbia she was to find her power of organizing given full scope. She had splendid material in the personnel of the Scottish Women's Hospitals units under her command. She made many friends, Sir Ralph Padgett, Colonel Hunter, Dr. Kersen, Colonel Gentic, and many others. She was in close touch with, was herself part of, big schemes, a fact which was exhilarating to her. Everything combined to make her happy. The scheme that eventually took shape was Colonel Hunter's. His idea was to have three blocking hospitals in the north of Serbia, which, when the planned autumn offensive of the Serbs took place, would keep all infectious diseases from spreading throughout the country. Innumerable journeys up and down Serbia were taken by Dr. Ingels before the three Scottish Women's Hospitals which were to form this blocking line had been settled, and were working at Valiyevo, Lazarevac, and Mladanovac. Dr. Alice Hutchison in her unit, with the finest canvas hospital ever sent to the Balkans, arrived in Serbia shortly after Dr. Ingels. Dr. Hutchison was sent to Valiyevo. Lazarevac and Mladanovac were respectively under Dr. Hallway and Dr. McGregor. Dr. Ingels herself took charge of the fever hospitals in Kraguljevac, working them as one, so that soon there were four efficient Scottish Women's Hospitals in Serbia. The Serbian government gave Dr. Ingels a free pass over all the railways. She calls herself extraordinarily lucky in getting this pass, and writes how greatly she enjoys these journeys, how much of the country she sees during them, and of the interesting people she meets. For the first time in her life she had work to do that needed almost the full stretch of her powers, and deep at the heart of her joy at this time lay her growing love of the Serbs, something in them appealed to her, something in their heroic weakness satisfied the yearning of her strength to help and protect. She writes glowingly of their soldiers streaming past the Scottish Women's Hospitals at Mladanovac, massing on the Danube, their heads held high. Every letter is full of enthusiasm of the country and the people. God bless her, writes a friend. It was the last really joyous time she knew. Later on the Serbs erected a fountain at Mladanovac in memory of the work done by the Scottish Women's Hospitals in Serbia, and in particular by Dr. Ingels. The opening ceremony took place in the beginning of September. Many people, English and Serbs, were present, and a long letter by Dr. Ingels describes the dedication service. A table covered with a white cloth stood in front of the fountain, and on it a silver crucifix, a bowl of water, a long brown candle lighted and stuck in a tumbler full of sand, and two bunches of basil, one fresh and one dried. At the end of the service the priests gave the bunches of basil to Dr. Ingels. These are some of the few things, she writes, which I shall certainly keep always. The Serbian officer who designed the fountain has contributed to this life the following account of his impressions of Dr. Ingels. Already five sad and painful years have gone by since the time that I had the chance and honour of knowing Dr. Elsie Ingels. It is already five years since we erected to her, still in the plenitude of life, a monument. What a prediction! Whence came the inspiration of the great soul who was founder of this monument? O great and noble soul, there is yet another monument created in the hearts of the soldiers and the Serbian people. And if the pitiless wheel of time crushes the first, the second will survive all that is visible and material. One did not need to be long with Dr. Elsie Ingels to see all the grandeur of her soul, her long vision, and her attachment to the Serbs. I was not among those who chanced to pass some months in her company, but even in a few days I soon learnt to recognise her divine nature and to see her relief in all colours. After the second big offensive of the Germano-Austrian forces against Serbia in the autumn of 1914, Dr. Elsie Ingels took a great part in working against the various epidemics spread by the invasion in western Serbia. The significance and tenacity of this time of epidemic was such that only those who witnessed it can understand the great usefulness, devotion, and attachment of its co-workers. A great number of Dr. Ingels personnel were occupied in coping with it, and with what results? The Serbian counteroffensive terminated provisional peace reigned in Serbia. Six months went by before the last soldier of the enemy left our sacred soil. The second enemy, the great epidemic, has also been arrested and vanquished. The terrors that these two allies brought in their train gradually disappeared and the sun shone once again for the little-armed people. Men breathed again, and tired bodies slept. One had the time to think of the great soldiers of the front, as well as those who worked behind the lines. And indeed, in those great days we knew not who were the more courageous, the more daring, the greater heroes. General Headquarters decided to give a tangible recognition to all those who had taken part in this epic. Among the first, thus distinguished, were Dr. Elsie Ingels and her hospitals. On the proposal of the Director of Sanitation it was decided to erect a monumental fountain to the memory of Dr. Elsie Ingels and her Scottish women's hospitals. This was to be at Mladanovac, quite close to one of these hospitals, at a few yards distance from the main railway line running from Belgrade to Niche, inside of all the travellers who passed through Serbia. It was erected, and bears the inscription, in memory of the Scottish women's hospitals and their founder, Dr. Elsie Ingels. The object of my letter is not to make known what I have told you. What follows is more important. Dr. Ingels was present in person at the unveiling and benediction of the fountain. The idea was to give her a proof of the people's gratitude by erecting an original monument which, in recalling those strenuous days, would combine a value practical and real, solving the question of a pure drinking water, and cutting off the danger of an epidemic at the root, and also the impression that she had after visiting a number of fountains in the environs of Mladanovac and its villages left her no rest, as she said later, and produced in her an idea, long thought over, and eventually expressed in the following conversation. Look here, Captain P., I have a scheme which absorbs me more and more, and becomes in me a fixed idea. You suffer in Serbia, and are often subject to epidemics through nothing else but bad water. I have been thinking it over, and would like to ameliorate as much as possible this deplorable state of affairs. I have the intention of addressing an appeal to the people of Great Britain, and asking them to inaugurate a fund which would create the opportunity of constructing in each Serbian village a fountain of good drinking water. And then I should return to Serbia, and with you. I hope that you are willing, since you have already built so many of these fountains round about, should go from village to village erecting these fountains. It will be, after the war, my unique and greatest desire to do this for the Serbs. O great friend of Serbia, thy clear-sighted spirit was to have but a glimpse of one of the most essential necessities of the Serbian people. Thy frail and fragile body has not permitted thee to enjoy the pleasure to which thou hast devoted so much love. For the well-being of this dear people thou has given thyself entirely, even thy noble life. What a misfortune indeed for us! May heaven send thee eternal peace, so much merited, and so much desired by all who knew thee, and above all, and especially, by all those Serbian hearts which have found in thee a great human friend. Dr. Ingels wrote every week to the committee. In the letters written towards the end of September, we are aware of the anxiety about the future which is beginning to make itself felt. Last week Austrian aeroplanes were announced, and the authorities evidently believed the report, for the arsenal was emptied of workmen, and they don't stop work willingly just now. So, as a Serbian officer said to me yesterday, Serbia is exactly where she was a year ago. It does seem hard lines on our little ally. Well, as to how this affects us, Sir Ralph was talking about the various possibilities. As long as the Serbian's fight will stick to them, retreat if necessary, burning all our stores. If they are overwhelmed, we must escape, possibly via Montenegro. Don't worry about us, we won't do anything rash or foolish, and if you trust us to decide, as we must know most about the situation out here, we'll act rationally. At last in November 1915 the storm broke. Serbia was overrun by Germans, Austrians, and Bulgarians. All her big allies failed her, so when her bitter hour of trial came, Serbia stood alone. The Scottish women's hospitals at Ladanovac, Lazarevac, and Valjevo had to be evacuated in an incredibly short time. The women from Ladanovac and Lazarevac came down to Kragujevac, where Dr. Inglis was. After a few days they had again to move further south to Krushevac. From here they broke into two parties, some joining the Great Retreat, and coming home through Albania. The rest stayed behind with Dr. Inglis and Dr. Hallway to nurse the Serbian wounded and prisoners in Krushevac. If the committee could have seen Colonel Gentich's face when I said to him that we were not going to move again, but that they could count on us just where we stood, I think they would have been touched, writes Dr. Inglis. At Krushevac both units, Dr. Inglis and Dr. Hallway's, worked together at the Czar Lazare Hospital, under the Serbian director, Major Nikolaj. It was here they were taken prisoners by the Germans in November. Quote, These months that Krushevac were a strange mixture of sorrow and happiness. Was the country really so very beautiful, or was it the contrast to all the misery that made it evident? There was a curious exhilaration in working for those grateful, patient men, and in helping the director, so loyal to his country and so conscientious in his work, to bring order out of chaos. And yet the unhappiness in the Serbian houses and the physical wretchedness of those cold, hungry prisoners lay always like a dead weight on our spirits. Never shall we forget the beauty of the sunrises or the glory of the sunsets, with clear, cold, sunlit days between, and the wonderful starlit nights. But we shall never forget the zoo, either, or the groans outside, when we hid our heads in the blankets to shut out the sound. Nor shall we ever forget the cheeriness or trustfulness of all that hospital, and especially of the officer's ward. We got no news, and we made it a point of honour not to believe a word of the German telegrams posted up in the town. So we lived on rumour. And what rumour? The English at Skopje, the Italians at Poshega, and the Russians over the Carpathians. We could not believe that Serbia had been sacrificed for nothing. We were convinced it was some deep-laid scheme for weakening the other fronts, and so it was quite natural to hear that the British had taken Belgium and the French were in Metz." During this time in Khrushchevac, Dr. Ingels and the women in her unit lived and slept in one room. One night an excited message was brought to the door that enemy aircraft was expected soon. Everyone was taking refuge in places that were considered safe. Would they not come, too? For a moment there was a feeling of panic in the room. Then Dr. Ingels said, without raising her head from her pillow. Everyone will do as they like, of course. I shall not go anywhere. I am very tired, and bed is a comfortable place to die in. The suspicion of panic subsided. Every woman lay down and slept quietly till morning. The honourable Mrs. Haverfield was one of the Scottish women who stayed behind at Khrushchevac. She gives us some memories of Dr. Ingels. I think the most abiding recollection I have of our dear doctor is the expression in her face in the middle of a heavy bombardment by German guns of our hospital at Khrushchevac, during the autumn of 1915. I was coming across some swampy ground which separated our building from the large barracks called after the good and gentle Tsar Lazar of Kossavophany, when a shell flew over our heads and burst close by with a deafening roar. The doctor was coming from the opposite direction. We stood a moment to comment upon the perilous position we were all in. She looked up into my face, and with that smile that nobody who ever knew her could forget, and such a quizzical expression in her blue eyes, said, Eve, we are having some experiences now, aren't we? She and I had often compared notes, and said how we would like to be in the thick of everything. At last we were. I have never seen anyone with greater courage or anyone who was more unmoved under all circumstances. Under our little doctor Bricks had to be made, whether there was straw or not. In this same hospital at Khrushchevac she had ordered me to get up bathing arrangements for the sick and wounded. There was not a corner in which to make a bathroom, or a can, and only a broken pump a hundred and fifty yards away across mud and swamp. There was no wood to heat the water, and nothing to heat it in even if we had the wood. I admit I could not achieve the desired arrangement. Elsie took the matter in hand herself, finding I was no use, and in one day had a regular supply of hot water and baths for the big magazine, where they are sick, screened off with sheets, and regular baths were the order of the day from that time forth. One never ceased to admire the tireless energy, the resourcefulness, and the complete unselfishness of that little woman who spent herself until the last moment, always in the service of others. At last on the 9th of February our hospital was emptied. The chronic invalids had been put on commission and sent to their homes. The vast majority of the men had been removed to Hungary, and the few remaining, badly wounded men who would not be fit for months, taken over to the Austrian hospitals. On the 11th we were sent north under an Austrian guard with fixed bayonets. Great care was taken that we should not communicate with anyone en route. At Belgrad, however, we were put into a waiting room for the night, and after we had crept into our sleeping-bags, we were suddenly roused to speak to a Serbian woman. The kindly Austrian officer in charge of us said she was the wife of a Serbian officer in Khrushchevac, and that if we would only use German we might speak to her. She wanted news of her husband. We were able to reassure her. He was getting better. He was in the gymnasium. Vrilo Dobr, very well, she said, holding both our hands. Vrilo, Vrilo Dobr, we said, looking apprehensively at the officer. But he only laughed. Probably his Serbian, too, was equal to that. That was the last Serbian we spoke to in Serbia, and we left her a little happier. And thus we came to Vienna, where the American Embassy took us over. When we reached Zurich and found everything much the same as when we disappeared into the silence, our hearts were sick for the people we had left behind us, still waiting and trusting. Referring to this year of work done for Serbia, Mrs. Seton Watson wrote of Dr. Ingels. History will record the name of Elsie Ingels, like that of Lady Padgett, as preeminent among that band of women who have redeemed for all time the honour of Britain in the Balkans. We close this chapter on her work in Serbia, with tributes to her memory from two of her Serbian friends, Ms. Kristic, a well-known journalist, and Lieutenant Colonel D. C. Popovich, professor at the Military Academy in Belgrade. Through Dr. Ingels, Serbia has come to know Scotland, for I must confess that formerly it was not recognised by our people as a distinctive part of the British Isles. Her name, as that of the Serbian mother from Scotland, has become legendary throughout the land, and it is not excluded that at a future date popular opinion will claim her as of Serbian descent, although born on foreign soil. What appealed to all those with whom Elsie Ingels came in contact in Serbia was her extraordinary sympathy and understanding for the people whose language she could not speak and whose ways and customs must certainly have seemed strange to her, yet there is no record of misunderstanding between any Serb and Dr. Ingels. Everyone loved her, from the tired peasant women who tramped miles to ask the Scottish Dr. S. for advice about their babies to the wounded soldiers whose pains she had alleviated. Here I must mention that Dr. Ingels won universal respect in the Serbian medical profession for her skill as a surgeon. During a great number of years past we have had women physicians and very capable they are, too, but for some reason or other Serbian women had never specialised in surgery. Hence it was not without scepticism that the male members of the profession received the news that the organiser of the Scottish hospitals was a skilled surgeon. Until Dr. Ingels actually reached Serbia and had performed successfully in their presence they refused to believe this amiable fable, but from the moment that they had seen her work they altered their opinion, and to the great joy of our Serbian women they no longer proclaimed the fact that surgery was not a woman's sphere. This is but one of the services Dr. Ingels has rendered our woman movement in Serbia. Today we have several active societies working for the enfranchisement of women, and there is no doubt that the record of the Scottish women's hospital, organised and equipped by a suffrage society, and run entirely by women, is helping us greatly towards the realisation of our goal. It was a cause of delight to our women and of no small surprise to our men that the Scottish units that came out never had male administrators. It is very difficult to say all one would wish about Dr. Ingels beneficial influence in Serbia in the few lines which I am asked to write, but before I conclude I may be allowed to give my own impression of that remarkable woman. What struck me most in her was her grip of facts in Serbia. I had a long conversation with her at Valjevo in the summer of 1915 before the disaster of the triple enemy onslaught, and while we still believe that the land was safe from a fresh invasion. She spoke of her hopes and plans for the future of Serbia. When the war is over, she said, I want to do something lasting for your country. I want to help the women and children. So little has been done for them, and they need so much. I should like to see Serbian qualified nurses and up-to-date women's and children's hospitals. When you will have won your victories, you will require all this in order to have a really great and prosperous Serbia. She certainly meant to return and help us in our reconstruction. I saw Dr. Ingels once again several weeks later at Khrushchevac, where she had remained with her unit to care for the Serbian wounded, notwithstanding the invitation issued her by army headquarters to abandon her hospital and return to England. But Dr. Ingels never knew a higher authority than her own conscience. The fact that she remained to face the enemy, although she had no duty to this, her adopted country, was both an inspiration and a consolation to those numerous families who could not leave, and to those of us who, being Serbian, had a duty to remain. She left in the spring of 1916, and we never heard of her again in Serbia until the year 1917, when we, in occupied territory, learned from a German paper that she had died in harness working for the people of her adoption. There was a short and appreciative obituary telling of her movements since she had left us. For Serbian women she will remain a model of devotion and self-sacrifice for all time, and we feel that the highest tribute we can pay to her is to endeavor, however humbly, to follow in the footsteps of this unassuming, valiant woman. My Recollections of Dr. Elsie Ingels I made her acquaintance towards the close of October 1915, when, as a heavily wounded patient in the military hospital of Khrushchevac, I became a prisoner, first of the Germans and then of the Austrians. The Scottish women's hospital mission, with Dr. Ingels' head and Mrs. Haverfield as administrator, had voluntarily become prisoners of the Austrians and Germans, rather than abandon the Serbian sick and wounded they had hitherto cared for. The mission undertook a most difficult task, that is, the healing of administration to the typhus patients, which had already cost the lives of many doctors. But the Scottish women, whose spirit was typified in their leader Miss Ingels, did not restrict themselves to this department, hastening to assist whenever they could in other departments. In particular, Dr. Elsie Ingels gave help in the surgical ward, and undertook single-handed the charge of a great number of wounded, among whom I was included, and to her devoted, sisterly care, I am a grateful debtor for my life. She visited me hourly, and not only performed a doctor's duties, but those of a simple nurse, without the slightest reluctance. The conditions of Serbian hospitals under the Austrians rendered provisioning one of the most difficult tasks. At the withdrawal of the Serbian army, only the barest necessaries were left behind, and the Austrians gave hardly anything beyond bread, and at times a little meat. The typhus patients were thus dependent, almost entirely, on the elements which the Scottish mission could furnish out of their own means. It was edifying to see how they solved the problem. Every day their chief, Dr. Ingels, and Mrs. Haverfield at the head, the nurses off duty, with empty sacks and baskets slung over their shoulders, tramped for miles to the villages around Khrushchevots, and after several hours marched through the narrow, muddy paths, returned, loaded with cabbages, potatoes, or other vegetables, in baskets and sacks, their pockets filled with eggs and apples. Instead of fatigue, joy and satisfaction were evident in their faces, because they were able to do something for their Serbian brothers. I am ever in admiration of these rare women, and never can I forget their watchword. Not one of our patients is to be without at least one egg a day, however far we may have to tramp for it. Such labour, such love, towards an almost totally strange nation, is something more than mere humanity. It is the summit of understanding, and the application of real and solid Christian teaching. Dr. Ingels cured not only the physical, but the moral ills of her wounded patients. Every word she spoke was about the return of our army, and she assured us of final victory. She did not speak thus merely to soothe, for one felt the fire of her indignation against the oppressor, and her love for us, and her confidence that our just cause would triumph. I could mention a host of great and small facts in connection with her, enough to fill a book. But in one word, every move, every thought of the late Dr. Ingels and the members of her mission breathed affection towards the Serbian soldier and the Serbian nation. The Serbian soldier himself is the best witness to this. One has only to inquire about the Scottish women's mission in order to get a short and eloquent comment which resumes all and expresses astonishment that he should be asked. Of course I know of our sisters from Scotland. But the enemy could not succeed in shaking these noble women in their determination and their love for us Serbians. They at last obtained their release and reached their own country, but without taking time to rest properly they at once started to collect fresh stores and hastened to the assistance of the Serbian volunteer corps in the Dobrudja. They returned with the same corps to the Macedonian front and thence to Serbia once more at the close of last year in order to come through the aid of the impoverished Serbian people. The fact that Dr. Ingels lost her life after the retreat from Russia is a fresh proof of her devotion to Serbia. The Serbian soldiers mourn her death as that of a mother or sister. The memory of her goodness, self-sacrifice, and unbounded charity will never leave them as long as they live and will be handed down as a sacred heritage to their children. The entire Serbian army and the entire Serbian people weep over our dear departed Dr. Ingels, while erecting a memorial to her in their hearts greater than any of the world's monuments. Glory be to her and the land that gave her birth. Dr. Ingels was at home from February to August 1916. Beside her work as chairman of the Committee for Kosovo Day, she was occupied in many other ways. She paid a visit of inspection for the Scottish Women's Hospitals Committee to their unit in Corsica, reporting in person to them on her return to the Serbian army. The Serbian army and the Serbian people weep over her death to their unit in Corsica, reporting in person to them on her return in her usual clear and masterly way on the work being done there. She worked hard to get permission for the Scottish Women's Hospitals to send a unit to Mesopotamia, where certainly the need was great. It has been said of her that, like Douglas of Old, she flung herself where the battle raged most fiercely, always claiming, and at last obtaining, permission to set up her hospitals where the obstacles were greatest and the dangers most acute. It was not the fault of the Scottish Women's Hospital that their standard was not found flying in Mesopotamia. During the time she was at home, in the intervals of her other activities, she spoke at many meetings, telling of the work of the Scottish Women's Hospitals. At these meetings she would speak for an hour or more of the year's work in Serbia, without mentioning herself. She had the delightful power of telling a story without bringing in the personal note. Often at the end of a meeting her friends would be asked, by members of the audience, if Dr Engels had not been in Serbia herself. On being assured that she had, they would reply incredulously, but she never mentioned herself at all. The honorary secretary of the Clapin High School Old Girl Society wrote, after Dr Engels' death, describing one of these meetings. In June 1916 Dr Engels came to our annual commemoration meeting and spoke to us of Serbia. None of those who were present will, I think, ever forget that afternoon and the almost magical inspiration of her personality. Behind her simple narrative, from which her own part in the great deeds of which she told, seemed so small that to many of us it was a revelation to learn later what her part had been, lay a spiritual force which left no one in the audience untouched. We feel that we should like to express our gratitude for that afternoon in our lives, as well as our admiration of her gallant life and death. The door to Mesopotamia, being still kept closed, Dr Engels, in August 1916, went to Russia as CMO of a magnificently equipped unit which was being sent to the help of the Yugoslavs by the Scottish women's hospitals. A few days before she left Dr Engels went to Levin on the five-sure coast of Scotland, where many of her relatives were gathered, to say farewell. The photograph given here was taken at that time. CHAPTER XI The Division consisted mainly of Serbo-Croats and Slovenes, namely Serbs who, as subjects of Austria-Hungary, were obliged to serve in the Austrian army. Nearly all of these men had been taken prisoners by the Russians, or perhaps more correctly, had voluntarily surrendered to the Russians rather than fight for the enemies of their co-nationals. In May 1915 a considerable number of these Austro-Serbs volunteered for service with the Serbian army, and by arrangement with the Russian government, who gave them their freedom, they were transported to Serbia. After the entry of Bulgaria into the war it was no longer possible to send them to Serbia, and two thousand were left behind at Odessa. The number of these volunteers increased, however, to such an extent that by permission of the Serbian government Serbian officers from Corfu were sent over to organize them into a military unit for service with the Russian army. By May 1916 a first division was formed under the command of the Serb colonel, Colonel Hajić, and later a second division under General Zivkovitch. It was to be the first division that the Scottish women's hospitals and transport were to be attached. The unit mustered at Liverpool on August 29, and left for Archangel on the following day. It consisted of a personnel of seventy-five and three doctors, with Elsie Ingels, CMO. A member of the staff describes the journey. Our unit left Liverpool for Russia on August 31, 1916. Like the Israelites of old we went out not knowing exactly where we were bound for. We knew only that we had to join the Serbian division of the Russian army, but where that division was, or how we were to get there, we could not tell. We were seventy-five all told, with fifty tons of equipment, and sixteen automobiles. We had a special transport, and after nine days over the North Sea we arrived at Archangel. From Archangel we were entrained for Russia, and sent down via Moscow to Odessa, receiving there further instructions to proceed to the Romanian front, where our Serbs were in action. We were fourteen days altogether in the train. I remember Dr. Ingels during those long days on the journey, playing patience, calm and serene, or losing her own patience when the train was stopped and would not go on. Out she would go and address the Russian officials in strenuous, nervous British. It was often effective. One of our interpreters heard one stationmaster saying, There is a great row going on here, and there will be trouble to-morrow if this train isn't got through. At Renni we were embarked on a steamer in Barges, and sent down the Danube to a place called Cernavoda, where once more we were disembarked, and proceeded by train and motor to Medjidia, where our first hospital was established in a large barracks on the top of a hill above the town, an excellent mark for enemy aeroplanes. The hospital was ready for wounded two days after our arrival. Until then it was a dirty, empty building, yet the wounded were received in it some forty-eight hours after our arrival. It was a notable achievement, but for Dr. Ingels obstacles and difficulties were placed in her path for the purpose of being overcome. If the mountains of Mohammed would not move, she removed them. In connection with the establishment of these field hospitals I have vivid recollections of her. The great empty upper floor of the barracks at Medjidia, seventy-five of us all in the one room. The lines of camp-beds. Dr. Ingels and her officers in one corner, and how quietly, in all the noise and hubbub, she went to bed and slept. I remember how I had to waken her when certain officials came on the night of our arrival to ask when we would be ready for the wounded. Say to-morrow, she said, and slept again. It's a wonder she did not say now, one of my fellow officers remarked. We were equipped for two field hospitals of one hundred beds each, and our second hospital was established close to the firing line at Bobomitch. We were at Bobomitch in Medjidia only some three weeks when we had to retreat. Three weeks of strenuous work at these two places ended in a sudden evacuation and retreat. Hospital B and the transport got separated from Hospital A. We can only, of course, follow the fortunes of Hospital A, which was directly under Dr. Ingels. The night of the retreat is made vivid for us by Dr. Ingels. The station was a curious sight that night. The flight was beginning. A crowd of people was collected at one end with boxes and bundles and children. One little boy was lying on a doorstep asleep, and against the wall farther on lay a row of soldiers. On the bench to the right, under the light, was a doctor in his white overall, stretched out, sound asleep, between the two rushes of work at the station dressing-room. And a Romanian officer talked to me of Glasgow, where he had once been invited out to dinner, so he had seen the British Customs. It was good to feel those British Customs were still going quietly on, whatever was happening here. Breakfasts coming regularly, hot water for baths, and everything as it should be. It was probably absurd, but it came like a great wave of comfort to feel that Britain was there, quiet, strong, and invincible, behind everything and everybody. A member of the unit also gives us details. I went twice down to the station with baggage in the evening, a perilous journey in rickety carts, through pitch darkness, over roads crammed with troops and refugees, which were lit up periodically by the most amazing green lightning I have ever seen, and the roar and flash of the guns was incessant. At the station no lights were allowed because of enemy aircraft, but the place was illuminated, here and there, by the campfires of a new Siberian division which had just arrived. Picked troops, these, and magnificent men. We wrestled with the baggage until 2 a.m., and went back to the hospital in one of our own cars. Our orderly came in almost in tears. Her cart had twice turned over completely on its way to the station, so on arrival she had hastened to Dr. Ingalls with a tail of woe and a scratched face. Dr. Ingalls said, That's right, dear child, that's right, stick to the equipment, which may very well be described as the motto of the unit these days. The majority of the unit are to go to Colots by train with Dr. Corbett. The rest, self-included, are to go by road with Dr. Ingalls and work with the army as a clearing station. In the morning of October 22nd the train party got off as quick as possible, and at about 4 p.m. a big glory came for our equipment. We loaded it, seven of us mounted on the top, and the rest of us went in two of our own cars. The scene was really intensely comic. Seven Scottish women balanced precariously on the pile of luggage, a Serbian doctor with whom Dr. Ingalls is to travel, standing alongside in a hysterical condition, imploring us to hurry, telling us the Bulgarians were as good as in the town already. Dr. Ingalls quite unmoved, demanding the whereabouts of the Ludgate boiler. Somebody arriving at the last minute with a huge open bottle of treacle, which, of course, could not possibly be left to a German. Oh, dear, how we laughed! Dr. Ingalls would never allow the Sunday service to be missed if it was at all possible to hold it. Miss Onslow tells us how she seized at a seeming opportunity, even on this Sunday, of so many dangers, to make ready for the service. MEGIDIA Sunday was the day on which we began our retreat from the Dobroga. We spent most of the morning going to and from the station, a place almost impossible to enter or leave on account of the refugees, their carts and animals, and the army, which was on the move, knocking all the approaches, transporting sick members of the unit and some equipment which still had to be put on the train, and only my touring car and one ambulance with which to do the work. Dr. Ingalls had been at the station until the early hours of the morning, but nevertheless superintended everything that was being done both at the train and up at the hospital. Towards noon a Serbian officer brought in a report that things were not as bad for the moment as they expected, whereupon the doctor immediately gave orders to prepare the room for a service at four o'clock that afternoon, and she began revolving plans for immediate work in Megidia. But alas! The good news was a false report. The enemy was rushing onwards. The Russian lorry came for the personal baggage and any remaining equipment which had not gone by train, and it, piled high with luggage and some of the staff, left at three, the remainder of us going in the ambulance and my car. Dr. Ingalls came in my car, and I had the honour of driving our dear doctor nearly all the time, and am the only member of the unit who was with her the whole time of the retreat from Megidia until we reached the Danube at Harsheva. The four days of the Dobroja retreat from October 22 to 26 were days of horror for all who took part in it, not least for Dr. Ingalls and the members of her units. At first we passed a few carts, then at some distance more and more, till we found ourselves in an unending procession of peasants with all their worldly goods piled on those vehicles. This procession seemed difficult to pass, but as time went on, added to it came the Romanian army retreating. The presence of guns, cavalry, infantry, ambulances, red cross-carts, motor-kitchens, and wounded on foot. A most extraordinary scene. The night was inky black. The only lights were our own headlights and those of the ambulance behind us, but they revealed a sad and never-to-be-forgotten picture. Our driver was quite wonderful. She sat unmoved, often for half an hour at a time. There was a block, and we had to wait while the yelling, frantic mob did what they could to get into some sort of order. Then we would move on for ten minutes and then stop again. It was like a dream or a play. It certainly was a tragedy. No one spoke. We just waited and watched it all. To us it was a spectacle. To these poor, homeless people it was a terrible reality. On eleven-thirty that Sunday night Dr. Engels and the party with her arrived at Caramarat. The straw-beds in the fairytale dinner and the cheery voice of Dr. Engels calling them to partake of it will never be forgotten by these Scottish women. On arrival at Caramarat Dr. Engels had asked for a room for her unit and a good meat meal. She was told a room was waiting for them, but a good meal was an impossibility. The town had been evacuated. There had been no food to be got for days. Quote, Though it was only a bare room, with straw in heaps on the floor and green blankets to wrap ourselves in, to cold, shivering beings like ourselves it seemed all that heart could desire. Never shall I forget the delight of lying down on the straw, the dry, warm blanket rolled round me. Then a most wonderful thing happened. The door opened and several soldiers entered with the most beautiful meal I ever ate. It was like a fairytale. Where did it come from? The lovely soup, the real Russian borscht, and roast turkey and plenty of bread and cheese. We ate like wolves and I can remember so distinctly sitting up in my straw nest with my blanket round me and hearing Dr. Engels' cheery voice saying, Is it this better than having to start and cook a meal? She was the most extraordinary person. When she said she must have a thing, she got it, and it was never for herself, always for others. End quote. They started again early on Monday morning, and after another day of adventures slept that night in the open air beside a river. Quote Cushions were brought from the cars and all the rugs we could find, and soon we were sitting round the fire, waiting for the water to boil for our tea, and a more delightful merry meal could not be imagined. We all told our experiences of the day, and Dr. Engels said, But this is the best of all. It is just like a fairytale. And so it was, for as we looked there were groups of soldiers holding their horses, standing motionless, staring at us. We saw them only through the wood smoke. The fire attracted them, and they came to see what it could mean. Seeing nine women laughing and chatting, alone and within earshot of the guns, the distant skyline red with the enemy's doings, was more than they could understand. They did not speak, but quietly went away as they had come. Rolled in our blankets, with the warmth of the fire making us feel drowsy, our chatter gradually ceased, and we slept as only a day in the open air can make one sleep. Another two days of continued retreat, and the different parties of Scottish women, arrived at places of safety. Thus we all came through the Dobruja Retreat. We had only been one month in Romania, but we seemed to have lived a lifetime between the 22nd and 26th of October, 1916. In the letter to the committee, Dr. Ingalls says of the unit, they worked magnificently at Megidia, and took the retreat in a very joyous, indomitable way. What cannot say they were plucky, because I don't think it ever entered their heads to be afraid. Finally the scattered members of the unit joined forces again at Breila, where Dr. Ingalls opened a hospital. During the time at Breila, Dr. Ingalls wrote to her relations. The letter is dated Rennie, where she had gone for a few days. Rennie, October 28, 1916. Dearest Amy. Just a line to say I am all right. Four weeks tomorrow since we reached Megidia and began our hospital. We evacuated it in three weeks, and here we all are back on the frontier. Such a time it has been, Amy dear. You cannot imagine what war is just behind the lines. And in a retreat. Our second retreat, and almost to the same day. We evacuated Kraguevac on the 25th of October last year. We evacuated Megidia on the 22nd this year. On the 25th this year we were working in a Russian dressing station at Harsheva, and were moved on in the evening. We arrived at Breila to find eleven thousand wounded and seven doctors. Only one of them a surgeon. Boatcom must stop. I am going back to Breila to do surgery. Have sent every trained person there. Ever you dear, dear people, your loving sister Elsie. We have had lots of exciting things too, and amusing things, and good things. Two further retreats had, however, to be experienced by Dr. Ingels and her unit before they could settle down to steady work. The three retreats took place in the following order. Sunday, October 22nd. Retreated from Megidia. October 25th. Arrived at Breila. Work there till December 3rd. December 3rd. Retreated to Galatz, where very strenuous work awaited them. January 4th. Retreated to Renny. August 1917. Left Renny and rejoined the Serb Division at Haji Abdul. The work during the above period from October 25th, 1916 to August 1917 was done for the Russians and Romanians. As soon as it was possible, Dr. Ingels joined the Serb Division in the end of August 1917. Dr. Ingels was still working in Renny when the Russian Revolution broke out in March. The spirit of unrest and indiscipline, which manifested itself among the troops, spread also to the hospitals, and a Russian doctor reported that in the other hospitals the patients had their own committees, which fixed the hours for meals and doctor's visits, and made hospital discipline impossible. But there was no sign of this under Dr. Ingels' kindly but firm rule. Without relaxing disciplinary measures, she did all in her power to keep the patients happy and contented, and as the Russian Easter drew near, she bought four icons to be put up in the wards that the men might feel more at home. The result of this kindly thought was a charming Easter letter written by the patients. To the much-honored Elsie Maud, the daughter of John. The wounded and sick soldiers from all parts of the army and fleet of great free Russia, who are now for healing in the hospital which you command, penetrated with a feeling of sincere respect, feel at their much-desired duty, to-day, on the day of the Feast of Holy Easter, to express to you our deep reverence to you, the doctor warmly loved by all, and also to your honoured personnel of women. We wish also to express our sincere gratitude for all the care and attention bestowed on us, and we bow low before the tireless and wonderful work of yourself and your personnel, which we see every day directed towards the good of the soldiers allied to your country. May England live! Signed the Russian Citizen Soldiers We cannot be too grateful to one member of the unit, who, in her impressions of Dr. Ingalls, has given us a picture of her during these months in Russia, that will live." I think so much stress has been laid by those who worked under her, on the leader who said there was no such word as can't in the dictionary, that the extraordinarily lovable personality that lay at the root of her leadership is in danger of being obscured. I do not mean by this that we all had a romantic affection for her. Her influence was of a much finer quality, just because she never dragged in the personal element. She was the embodiment of so much, and achieved more in her subordinates, just because she never had to depend for their loyalty on the limits of an admired personality. There is no one I should like less to hear described as popular. No one had less an easy power of endearing herself at first sight to those with whom she came in contact, at least in the relations of the unit. The first impression, as has been repeated over and over again, was always one of great strength and singleness of purpose. But all those fine qualities with which the general public is quite rightly ready to credit her had their roots in a serenity and gentleness of spirit, which that same public has had all too little opportunity to realize. Her unit itself realized it slowly enough. They obeyed it first because she was stronger than they, only later because she was finer and better. You know it was not, at least, an easy job to win the best kind of service from a mixed lot of women, the trained members of which had never worked under a woman before, and were ready, with their very narrow outlook, to seize on any and every opportunity for criticism. There was much opposition, more or less grumblingly expressed at first. No one hesitated to do what she was told, impossible with Dr. Ingalls as a chief, but it was grudgingly done. In the end it was all for the best. If she had been the kind of person who took trouble to rouse an easy personal enthusiasm, the whole thing would have fallen to pieces at the first stress of work. On the other hand, if she had never inspired more than respect, she would never have won the quality of service she succeeded in winning. The really mean spirited were loyal just so long as she was present, because she daunted them, and Dr. Ingalls disapproval was most certainly a thing to be avoided. But the great majority, whatever their personal views, were quickly ready to recognize her authority as springing from no hasty impulse, but from a finely consistent discipline of thought. We were really lucky in having the retreat at the beginning of the work. It helped the unit to realize how complete was the radical confidence they felt in her. I think her extraordinary love of justice was next impressed upon them. It took the sting out of every personal grievance, and was so almost passionately sincere it hardly seemed to matter if the verdict went against you. Her selflessness was an example, and often enough a reproach to every one of us. And to go to her in any personal difficulty was such a revelation of sympathy and understanding as shed a light on those less obvious qualities that really made all she achieved possible. People have often come to me and said casually, Oh yes, Dr. Ingalls was a very charming woman, wasn't she? And I have felt sorely tempted to say, rather snappishly, no, she wasn't. Only they wouldn't have understood. It is because their charming goes into the same category as my popular. I am afraid you will have hardly anticipated such an outburst. The difficulty is indeed to know where to stop. For what could I not say of the way her patience adored her, the countless little unerring things she did and said, which just kept us going when things were unusually depressing, or the unit unusually weary and homesick, the really good moments when one won the generous appreciation that was so well worth the winning. And last, if I may strike this note, her endless personal kindness to me. The following letter to her sister, Mrs. Simpson reveals something of the lovable personality of Elsie Ingalls. The nephew to whom it refers was wounded in the eye at the battle of Gaza and died a fortnight before she did. Odessa. June 24, 1917. Dearest, dearest Amy. Eve's letter came yesterday about Jim. And though I start at seven tomorrow morning for Renny, I must write to you, dear, before I go. Though what one can say, I don't know. One sees these awful doings all round one, but it strikes right home when one thinks of Jim. Thank God he is still with us. The dear, dear boy. I suppose he is home by now. And anyhow, he won't be going out again for some time. We are all learning much from this war. And I know, blank, will say it is all our own faults. But I am not sure that the theory that it is part of the long struggle between good and evil does not appeal more to my mind. We are just here in it. And whatever we suffer and whatever we lose, it is for the right we are standing. It is all terrible and awful. And I don't believe we can disentangle it all in our minds just now. The only thing is to just go on doing one's bit. Miss Henderson is taking home with her today a Serb officer, quite blind, shot right through behind his eyes to place him somewhere where he can be trained. I heard of him just after I had read Eve's letter, and I nearly cried. He wasn't just a case at that minute with my thoughts full of Jim. Dear old Jim, give him my love and tell him I'm proud of him, and how splendidly the regiment did, and how they suffered. Ever, your loving sister, Elsie Maude Ingles. Another of her unit, who worked with Dr. Ingles not only during the year in Russia, but through much of her strenuous campaign for the suffrage, gives us these remembrances. Our last communion. He that dwelleth in the secret place of the Most High shall abide under the shadow of the Almighty. Dearer to me, even in the memory of those outstanding qualities of great-hearted initiative, courage, and determination, which helped to make Dr. Elsie Ingles one of the great personalities of her age, is the remembrance of certain moments when, in the intimacy of close fellowship, during my term of office with her on active service, I caught glimpses of that simple sublime faith, by which she lived, and in which she died. One of my most precious possessions is the Bible Dr. Ingles read from when conducting the service, held on Sunday in the saloon of the transport, which took our unit out to Dark Angel. The whole scene comes back so vividly, the silent listening lines of the girls on either hand, hospital gray and transport khaki, in the center, standing before the Union Jack covered desk, the figure of our dear chief, and her clear, calm voice. He that dwelleth in the secret place of the Most High. One felt that such a secret place was indeed the abode of her Zarene spirit, and that there she found that steadfastness of purpose which never wavered, and the strength by which she exercised not only the gracious qualities of love, but those sterner ones of ruthlessness and implacability which are among the essentials of leadership. Dr. Ingles was a philosopher in the calm way in which she took the vicissitudes of life. It was only when her judgment, in regard to the work she was engaged in, was crossed that you became aware of her ruthlessness, her wonderful ruthlessness. I can find no better adjective. This quality of hers, perhaps more than any other, drew out my admiration and respect. Slowly it was born on those who worked with her that under no circumstances whatever would she fail the cause for which she was working, or those who had chosen to follow her. Another remembrance. By the banks of the Danube at Rene, where at night the searchlight of the enemy used to play upon our camp, in the tent erected by the girls for the service, and the little altar, simply and beautifully decorated by the nurse's loving hands, I see her kneeling beside me, wrapped in a deep meditation, from which I ventured to rouse her as the chaplain came towards her with the sacred bread and wine. Coming back, it seems to me that even then her soul was reaching out beyond this present consciousness. Here in the body-pent, absent from him, I roam. The look on her face was the look of those who hold high communion. So, in remembrance, we ate and drank of the same bread and the same cup. Even as I write these words, remembrance comes again, and I know that, although her bodily presence is removed, her spirit is in communion still. CHAPTER XII If you want us home, get them out. Through the summer months of 1917 Dr. Ingels had been working to get the Serbian division to which her unit was attached, out of Russia. They were in an unenviable position. The disorganization of the Russian army made the authorities anxious to keep the Serbian division there to stiffen the Russians. The Serb command realized, on the other hand, that no effective stand at that time would be made by the Russians, and that to send the Serbs into action would be to expose them to another disaster, such as it overtaken them in the Doberja. In the battle of the Doberja the Serb division had gone into the fight fourteen thousand strong. They were in the centre, with the Romanians on the left and the Russians on the right. The Romanians and Russians broke, and the Serbs, who had fought for twenty-four hours on two fronts, came out with only four thousand men. Further slaughter such as this would have been the fate of the Serbian division if left in Russia. The men want to fight, said General Zivkovich to Dr. Ingels. They are not cowards, but it goes to my heart to send them to their death like this. In July there had seemed to be a hope of the division being liberated, and sent, via archangel, to another front. However, later the decision of the Russian headquarters was definitely stated. The Serbs were to be kept on the Romanian front. The Serb staff were powerless in the matter, and entirely dependent on the good offices of the British government for effecting their release. Into this difficult situation Dr. Ingels descended, and brought to bear on it all the force of which she was capable. The whole story of her achievement is told in a history of the Scottish women's hospitals, in those chapters that are written by Miss Edith Palliser. Here we can only refer to the message Dr. Ingels sent to the Foreign Office, through Sir George Buchanan, British Ambassador at Petrograd, giving her own clear views on the position, and affirming that, in any event, the Scottish women's hospitals will stand by the Serbian division, and will accompany them if they go to Romania. At the end of the month of August the unit, leaving Rennie, rejoined the Serb division at Haji Abdul, a little village midway between Rennie and Belgrade. Dr. Ingels describes it as a lovely place, and we have a perfectly lovely camping ground among the trees. The division is hidden away wonderfully under the trees, and at first they were very loath to let us pitch our big tents that could not be so thoroughly hidden. But I was quite bent on letting them see what a nice hospital you had sent out, so I managed to get it pitched, and they are so pleased with us. They bring everybody, Russian generals, Romanian military attachés and ministers, to see it, and they are quite content, because our painted canvas looks like the roofs of ordinary houses. There was a constant rumour of a grand offensive to be undertaken on the Romanian front, which Dr. Ingels, though extremely sceptical of any offensive on a large scale, made every preparation to meet. The London Committee had cable to Dr. Ingels in the month of August advising the withdrawal of the unit, but leaving the decision in her hands, to which she replied, I am grateful to you for leaving decision in my hands. I will come with the division. Following upon this cable came a letter in which she emphasised her reasons for remaining. If there were a disaster we should none of us ever forgive ourselves if we had left, we must stand by. If you want us home, get them out. Orders and counter-orders for the release of the division were incessant, and on their release depended, as we have seen, the homecoming of the unit. The London Units Committee had feared greatly for the fate of the unit, if, as seemed probable, the served division was not able to leave Russia, and on November 9th approached the honourable H. Nicholson at the War Department of the Foreign Office, who assured them that the unit would be quite safe with the Serbs, who were well disciplined and devoted to Dr. Ingels. At that moment he thought it would be most unsafe for the unit to leave the Serbs and try to come home overland. Mr. Nicholson expressed the opinion that the committee would never persuade Dr. Ingels to leave her Serbs, and added, I cannot express to you our admiration here for Dr. Ingels and the work your units have done. At last the release of the division was affected, and on November 14th a cable was received by the committee from Dr. Ingels from Archangel, announcing her departure. On our way home. Everything satisfactory, and all well, except me. This was the first intimation the London Committee had received that Dr. Ingels was ill. She arrived at Newcastle on Friday, November 23rd, bringing her unit and the Serbian division with her. A great gale was blowing in the river, and they were unable to land until Sunday. Dr. Ingels had been very ill during the whole voyage, but on the Sunday afternoon she came out on deck and stood for half an hour whilst the officers of the Serbian division took leave of her. It was a wonderful example of her courage and fortitude. She stood unsupported, a splendid figure of quiet dignity, her face ashen and drawn like a mask, dressed in her worn uniform coat, with the faded ribbons that had seen such good service. As the officers kissed her hand she said to each of them a few words accompanied with her wonderful smile. She had stood through the summer months in Russia, an indomitable little figure, refusing to leave until she had got ships for the remnant of the Serbian division, and then, with her Serbs and her unit around her, she landed on the shores of England to die. CHAPTER XIII. Never knew I a braver going. Never read I of one. You face the shadow with all the tenderest words of love for all of us, but with not one selfish syllable on your lips. Dr. Ingalls was brought on shore on Sunday evening, and a room was taken for her in the station hotel at Newcastle. The victory over death has begun when the fear of death is destroyed. She had been dying by inches for months. She had fought death in Russia. She had fought him through all the long voyage. It was a strange warfare, for he was not to be stayed. Irresistible, majestic, wonderful, he took his toll, and yet she remained untouched by him. With unclouded vision, undimmed faith, and undaunted courage, serene and triumphant, in the last she passed him by. There was no fear in that room on the evening that Elsie Ingalls went forth. Dr. Ethel Williams writes of her in November 1919. The demonstration of serenity of spirit and courage during Dr. Ingalls' last illness was so wonderful that it has dwelt with me ever since. At first one felt that she did not in the least grasp the seriousness of her condition, but very soon one realized that she was just meeting fresh events with the same fearlessness and serenity of spirit as she had met the uncertainties and difficulties of life. One of her nieces was with her the whole of that last day. After Dr. Ethel Williams' visit, when for the first time Elsie Ingalls realized that the last circle of her work on earth was complete, she said to her niece, It is grand to think of beginning a new work over there. By the evening her sisters were with her. To the very last her mind was clear, her spirit dominant. Her confident, I know, in response to every thought and word of comfort offered to her was the outward expression of her inward state of faith. What made her passing so mighty and full of triumph? Surely it was the power of an endless life, that idea to which she had committed herself years ago as she had stood at the open grave where the first seemingly hopeless goodbye had been said. The power of that endless life, the life of Christ carried her forward on its mighty current into the new region shut out from our view, but where the life is still the same. We have watched through these pages the widening circles of Elsie Ingalls' life, her medical profession, the hospice, the women's movement, the Scottish women's hospitals, Serbia, her achievements in Russia. These we know of. The work which has been given to her now is beyond our knowledge. But we look after her with love and admiration, and know that somewhere, just out of sight, she is still working in her own keen way, circle after circle of service widening out in endless joyousness. On Thursday, November 29th, St. Giles' Cathedral in Edinburgh was filled with a great congregation, assembled to do honour to the memory of Elsie Ingalls. She was buried with military honours. At the end of the service, the Halladu Yacouris was played, and after the last post, the buglers of the Royal Scots rang out the revelry. From the door of the Cathedral to the Dean's Cemetery, the streets were lined with people waiting to see her pass. Dr. Ingalls was buried with marks of respect and recognition which make that passing stand alone in the history of the last rites of any of her fellow citizens. It was not a funeral, but a triumph. What a triumphal homecoming she had, said one friend, and another wrote, how glorious the service was yesterday. I don't know if you intended it, but one impression was uppermost in my mind, which became more distinct after I left, until by evening it stood out clear and strong. The note of victory. I had a curious impression that her spirit was there, just before it passed on to larger spheres, and that it was glad. I felt I must tell you. I wonder if you felt it, too. The note of victory was bigger than the war. The sole triumphant passing on. The revelry expressed it. In the two memorial services held to commemorate Dr. Ingalls, one in St. Giles Cathedral and the other in St. Margaret's, Westminster, a week later, the whole nation and all the interests of her life were represented. Royalty was represented, the Foreign Office, the War Office, the Admiralty, different bodies of women workers, the Suffrage Cause, the Medical World, the Serbians, and the Children. Scores of her children were in St. Giles, scattered through the congregation. In the crowds who lined the streets they were seen hanging on to their mother's skirts, and they were round the open grave in the Dean's Cemetery. These were the children of the wines and closes of the High Street, some of them bearing her name, Elsie Maud, to whom she had never been too tired or too busy to respond when they needed her medical help or when they waved to her across the street. The estimate of a life of such throbbing energy, the summing up of achievement and influence in due proportion, these belong to a future day. But we are wholly justified in doing honor to the memory of a woman whose personality won the heart of an entire brave nation, and of whom one of the gallant Serbian officers who bore her body to the grave said, with simple earnestness, we would almost rather have lost a battle than lost her. Alongside the wider public loss, the full and noble public recognition, there stands in the shadow the unspoken sorrow of her unit. The price has been paid, and paid as Dr. Ingalls herself would have wished it, on the high completion of a chapter in her work. But we stand bowed before the knowledge of how profound and how selfless was that surrender. Month after month her courage and her endurance never flagged. Daily and hourly, in the very agony of suffering and death, she gave her life by inches. Sad and more difficult, though the road must seem to us now, our privilege has been a proud one, to have served and worked with her, to have known the unfailing support of her strength and sympathy, and, best of all, to be permitted to preserve through life the memory and the stimulus of a supreme ideal. So passes the soul of a very gallant woman. Living, she spent herself lavishly for humanity. Dying, she joins the great unseen army of happy warriors, who, as they pass on, fling to the ranks behind a torch, which, pray God, may never become a cold and lifeless thing. End of Chapter 13. Recording by Chufigaliatsi, California. End of Elsie Ingalls, The Woman with the Torch, by Eva Shaw McLaren.