she’s got a whole village on her hands!
She didn’t mention Peter, so I know that she must be very worried about him. I wish I could go and see her but a lot of new patients are expected here soon and more VADs are being drafted in to help. It would be wonderful if Anne was amongst them!
Friday 24 May
On the 20th the Germans captured the French towns of Amiens and Abbeville. Our armies are retreating. At the hospital we’re all holding our breath.
I’m trying not to think about the War. It is such a relief to be able to bury myself in work. But as soon as I go off duty, I start to worry again. I can see worry plain on everyone else’s faces, too. It’s all anyone can talk about – what’s going to happen now? Bunty’s going round with a face as white as a sheet. The strain we’re all under here is quite awful.
Sunday 26 May
Half day off – I spent it in Surgical. It’s all hands to the deck now. All leave’s been cancelled. Sister and our MO were kept busy all morning, doing rounds and organizing patients’ discharges. For me it was back and forth to the store, returning hospital “blues” and bringing back the soldiers’ kits. As I ran back and forth, I saw men in khaki and women, white caps on their heads – doctors and nurses I’ve never seen before. I don’t know what they’re doing here.
All those patients well enough to travel are being evacuated to hospitals further inland to make room for the new arrivals. They’ll travel by ambulance train, escorted by a team of MOs and nurses. I still don’t know who the new patients are, or why so many are expected here. But something’s happened. Something big.
Monday 27 May
There are men lying on the floor, all along the corridor and in the ward, and on mattresses between the beds. Sweat pours off their faces, and they’re filthy. As I entered I saw a VAD on her knees, cutting off a man’s uniform. Her face was white and strained. It was Marjorie! I could see a dirty bandage swathed round the man’s leg and there was an identity tag round his neck. It was unreadable – stained with blood and dirt. One of the QAs took me over to another stretcher. Under the blanket the man was fully dressed. She asked me to wash his face. “Do it gently, Nurse,” she said. “And be quick about it. There are plenty more here that need washing.”
I knelt on the floor by the stretcher, a bowl of warm water to hand. Gently I lifted the soldier’s head, pillowing it on my arm, and began to wipe his face. His eyes were bloodshot and sweat was pouring off him.
“Wha. . . a. . . a. . . a. . .” he started to say. Oily stuff dribbled out of his mouth. I laid his head carefully back down on the stretcher. There was something staining my arm where his head had lain. I ran for help.
It was the last thing he said.
I ran into the annexe and leaned over the sink, taking deep breaths. I felt awful – too upset even for tears. Desperately I tried to pull myself together . I’ve got to cope – everyone else is. I must cope. I must.
“Nurse, I need your help,” I heard a voice say gently behind me. I dried my face quickly and turned round. The QA had a stack of hot-water bottles in her arms. “Heat these up for me, will you?” she asked.
“The men. . .” I faltered. “I’m supposed to wash them.”
“Never mind about that now. Nurse Mason’s doing it.”
Jean? I thought vaguely. She was working nights. Was she still on duty?
As soon as the men are brought in, the QAs and MOs go from mattress to bed, from bed to mattress. They check the men’s breathing and pulse. Is that man still in shock? Can we risk removing his uniform? They call me over. “Nurse, I’d like you to wash this man, please.” I run over and cut off his uniform as I’ve been shown. “Be careful how you do it, Nurse. We must try to save all we can.” Gently I wash the gritty sand and dirt off him. Under an old bandage there’s a wound on his
She didn’t mention Peter, so I know that she must be very worried about him. I wish I could go and see her but a lot of new patients are expected here soon and more VADs are being drafted in to help. It would be wonderful if Anne was amongst them!
Friday 24 May
On the 20th the Germans captured the French towns of Amiens and Abbeville. Our armies are retreating. At the hospital we’re all holding our breath.
I’m trying not to think about the War. It is such a relief to be able to bury myself in work. But as soon as I go off duty, I start to worry again. I can see worry plain on everyone else’s faces, too. It’s all anyone can talk about – what’s going to happen now? Bunty’s going round with a face as white as a sheet. The strain we’re all under here is quite awful.
Sunday 26 May
Half day off – I spent it in Surgical. It’s all hands to the deck now. All leave’s been cancelled. Sister and our MO were kept busy all morning, doing rounds and organizing patients’ discharges. For me it was back and forth to the store, returning hospital “blues” and bringing back the soldiers’ kits. As I ran back and forth, I saw men in khaki and women, white caps on their heads – doctors and nurses I’ve never seen before. I don’t know what they’re doing here.
All those patients well enough to travel are being evacuated to hospitals further inland to make room for the new arrivals. They’ll travel by ambulance train, escorted by a team of MOs and nurses. I still don’t know who the new patients are, or why so many are expected here. But something’s happened. Something big.
Monday 27 May
There are men lying on the floor, all along the corridor and in the ward, and on mattresses between the beds. Sweat pours off their faces, and they’re filthy. As I entered I saw a VAD on her knees, cutting off a man’s uniform. Her face was white and strained. It was Marjorie! I could see a dirty bandage swathed round the man’s leg and there was an identity tag round his neck. It was unreadable – stained with blood and dirt. One of the QAs took me over to another stretcher. Under the blanket the man was fully dressed. She asked me to wash his face. “Do it gently, Nurse,” she said. “And be quick about it. There are plenty more here that need washing.”
I knelt on the floor by the stretcher, a bowl of warm water to hand. Gently I lifted the soldier’s head, pillowing it on my arm, and began to wipe his face. His eyes were bloodshot and sweat was pouring off him.
“Wha. . . a. . . a. . . a. . .” he started to say. Oily stuff dribbled out of his mouth. I laid his head carefully back down on the stretcher. There was something staining my arm where his head had lain. I ran for help.
It was the last thing he said.
I ran into the annexe and leaned over the sink, taking deep breaths. I felt awful – too upset even for tears. Desperately I tried to pull myself together . I’ve got to cope – everyone else is. I must cope. I must.
“Nurse, I need your help,” I heard a voice say gently behind me. I dried my face quickly and turned round. The QA had a stack of hot-water bottles in her arms. “Heat these up for me, will you?” she asked.
“The men. . .” I faltered. “I’m supposed to wash them.”
“Never mind about that now. Nurse Mason’s doing it.”
Jean? I thought vaguely. She was working nights. Was she still on duty?
As soon as the men are brought in, the QAs and MOs go from mattress to bed, from bed to mattress. They check the men’s breathing and pulse. Is that man still in shock? Can we risk removing his uniform? They call me over. “Nurse, I’d like you to wash this man, please.” I run over and cut off his uniform as I’ve been shown. “Be careful how you do it, Nurse. We must try to save all we can.” Gently I wash the gritty sand and dirt off him. Under an old bandage there’s a wound on his
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