Doctors and nurses were occupying various carriages in this convoy escorted by several platoons of horsemen.

And mingled with the slowly moving horses and automobiles were marching groups of foot-soldiers, with cloaks unbuttoned or hanging from their shoulders like capes--wounded men who were able to walk and joke and sing, some with arms in splints across their breasts, others with bandaged heads with clotted blood showing through the thin white strips.
The millionaire longed to do something for these brave fellows, but he had hardly begun to distribute some bottles of wine and loaves of bread before a doctor interposed, upbraiding him as though he had committed a crime.

His gifts might result fatally.

So he had to stand beside the road, sad and helpless, looking after the sorrowful convoy.

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