Evie's War by Anna Mackenzie

Doing Some Good? I answered all as best I could, though without knowing whether Winifred had yet broached the subject of joining the Belgian Red Cross. I hope I did not give the game away!
7 July, 1st Eastern
    It is both good and bad to be back. Parts of the work are tedious and, oh, how a back can ache by the end of a day! But one of my Lieutenants is now walking, albeit with a limp, while another, quite the sweetest man but with an almost impossible accent, is now able to feed himself with scarcely any assistance from me. I have another who dribbles terribly as half of his jaw has been shot away, but we muddle along and try to find ways to help him meet the difficulty.
    Winifred was quite put out when she heard of Lady B’s deviousness but I do not believe anything I said will work against her; quite the reverse. I have suggested she consider broaching the question with Matron.
9 July
    We have had the most trying day, with a visit from a deputation of the local Women’s Medical Aid Society, who have taken it upon themselves to assess whether Our Men Are Being Adequately Cared For. These women have simply not a clue. They were full of advice, all of which had absolutely no practical merit. Matron, forbearing throughout, was by the end of their ‘inspection’ growing visibly wearied. Captain Mackay was altogether impolite, but only after they stood about him making suggestions for his welfare as if it were his ears, rather than his arms, that had been lost.
10 July, Deans Park
    Just before I collapsed into bed last night there came a quiet tippity-tap on my door and I found Millie outside, wondering whether there was not some ‘proper’ way she could contribute to the War Effort (it seems that, like me, she does not much care for knitting socks). Inspiration arrived this morning: I wrote a note to Lady B. If anyone can assist my young cousin, I am sure it will be she.
    Edmund’s most recent letter to Deans Park is filled with reminiscences of fishing (of all things), which makes one certain he is feeling rather homesick. He says nothing at all of the War.
13 July, 1st Eastern
    Winifred and I, together with another driver and two nurses, pooled our resources and dined at the Hotel this evening: what swank! Quite simply, we had all had enough of Nurses’ Home stodge, and instead enjoyed a memorable meal of grilled fish, roast mutton and summer pudding. It was divine and we stuffed ourselves then rolled home groaning!
14 July
    Received a dressing-down from Matron for our escapade last night, but it was not too bad as we were all in it together. It is, however, Not To Be Repeated.
15 July
    Success in Africa and disasters in Russia. I no longer entirely trust the newspapers, which present every battle as a victory, no matter the cost paid by our men. Of the real situation, the boys coming into the Hospital say little, but all are desperately grateful to be safe and clean and cared for.
16 July
    Mr Lindsay, whom I must learn to call Corporal Lindsay, is ‘across the Channel’ — which is all the censors allowed — and writes that his Greek is of less use than his Latin. Also, that his feet and back vie for ‘the honour of greatest weariness’. Perhaps Winifred is right in her supposition, or perhaps he has written to us both: I will ask when I see her tomorrow; she is on duty tonight.
21 July
    The weekend flew by with a most splendid surprise: Edmund was at the Station to meet me! He is home for four days. To Mother’s effusive outpourings, he says little. He is not quite the insouciant brother who went off to War. As well he is plagued by a cough. When we had a quiet moment I enquired whether it was gas, to which he shrugged.
    Aunt Marjorie proposed a picnic on Saturday, Father arranging a cart to transport us and our hampers to the river. Edmund lay down on the grass and slept, for those moments looking almost relaxed, until Eugenie contrived tobe stung by a bee and let