Amputees at a hospital in Budapest, Austria-Hungary in the summer of 1915. Some had lost their feet to freezing in the Carpathian Mountains in the winter. From 'Antwerp to Gallipoli' by Arthur Ruhl.
In a hospital garden, Budapest. All of these Austro-Hungarian soldiers have had one or both legs amputated.
"If I had stayed in London and continued to read the lies of but one side, I should doubtless, by this time, be able to loathe and despise the enemy with an entire lack of doubt, discomfort, or intelligence. But having been in all the countries and read all the lies, the problem is less simple. . . . Be joyful if you can, when you know what war is, and, knowing it, know also that it is the only way to do your necessary work. The absurd and disgusting thing is the ignorance and cowardice of those who can slaughter an army corps every day for lunch, with words, and would not be able to make so trivial a start toward the 'crushing' they are forever talking about as to fire into another man's open eyes or jam a bayonet into a single man's stomach. Among the Utopian steps which one would most gladly support would be an attempt to send the editors and politicians of all belligerent countries to serve a week in the enemy's hospitals."
Excerpt from 'Cannon Fodder' in Antwerp to Gallipoli by Arthur Ruhl, a journalist from the neutral United States. Having written from Antwerp, Berlin, Gallipoli, and Romania, Ruhl was in Budapest in summer, 1915. Between the two paragraphs quoted, Ruhl has another about those who love the notion of 'flashing sabers.' He describes the grim wound he could fit four fingers in that a saber had made. He had read that the call to 'Sharpen sabers!' was 'joyful.' He demurs.
Antwerp to Gallipoli by Arthur Ruhl, pp. 262, 263, copyright © 1916 by Charles Scribner's Sons, publisher: Charles Scribner's Sons, publication date: 1916
1915-08-16, 1915, Ruhl, amputee, wounded
