Front Line Nurse Page 10

At six o’clock Angelina and the others trudged through the wet grass towards the hospital, ready to start their morning shift. Every single thing they had been trained to do had swung into action, and it had surprised them all how soon they’d felt able to touch and handle their patients and deal with the grotesque necessities required by severely damaged bodies and minds, and how they managed to go on calmly throughout the din and disruption.

  It helped that some of the men even had the heart to have a laugh. This morning, as they began their individual duties, Jane, especially, seemed to have been picked out for some teasing.

  ‘Come to the pub with me tonight, Miss,’ one of them said. ‘I’d like the chance to get you drunk!’

  Jane grinned affably. ‘Don’t kid yourself,’ she said. ‘I could drink you under the table any day!!’

  Those who could join in the banter managed to smile, then Jane said to the first man, ‘Now then, clever sticks, I’m about to remove this dressing. It’ll take a minute or two and it’s going to hurt like hell. But you’re a big strong lad and you’re not going to make a fuss, are you?’

  ‘I’m gonna tell my mum about you,’ the man said. ‘She’ll have a word or two to say that’ll pin your ears back!’

  With everything she needed in front of her, Jane leaned over, biting her lip at what she had to do. It was a terrible wound, the intestines protruding, and the area severely infected. Then she smiled quickly. ‘Tell you what,’ she said, ‘Who knows “Ten Green Bottles”?’

  And with that several voices began joining in feebly. ‘Hanging on the wall …’

  ‘Good! Now everyone sing as loud as you can until we get to, let’s see … six green bottles. Okay? That should be long enough to get this done.’

  Obediently, several soldiers began the familiar song, and Angelina, working three beds along, began humming along too. She remembered that that was another of Miss Jones’s favourites. Amazingly, by the time the wound was cleaned and re-dressed, half the ward was singing.

  Angelina glanced across at Jane and winked. That was clever of Jane.

  But a moment or two later, her patient sank back in a state of collapse. He had managed to sing to the end with the others, but that was the last sound he would ever make. He became deeply unconscious and never recovered.

  The following day, as the girls rounded the corner to the hospital, each one of them stopped short, the sight almost freezing the blood in their veins.

  What they were looking at were hundreds and hundreds of stretchers being carried towards them, everyone and everything covered in thick brown mud. Some of the wounded were managing to stagger and crawl along, cursing and calling out for help. It was the most pitiful and frightening thing to see, and Angelina’s first thought was – how on earth are we going to treat all these men and where are we going to put them? There was hardly any space left on the wards and there were so many wounded you could barely count them.

  She moved forward quickly, gritting her teeth. This wasn’t the time for thinking, this was the time for action, and all the nurses, together with other medical staff who had emerged from the hospital, automatically took up position as they went from stretcher to stretcher, and from one walking wounded to another, assessing which needed immediate attention, which could await their turn.

  Angelina swiftly moved along the line. No amount of book learning, no amount of technical description could cover this event. You had to be here to witness this unbelievable scene, to hear the desperate cries and delirious moans.

  The plight of one soldier almost took her breath away. He was reaching out to take hold of anyone who might pass by. ‘Help, someone please,’ he called, and Angelina, horror-stricken at his plight, went straight to him, and he clutched her hand.

  ‘Sorry to be a nuisance,’ he said through parched lips, ‘but I can’t see anything, anything at all. Will I have to have an operation? I’m only 17,’ he added, ‘and I’ve never been to hospital.’

  Angelina squeezed his hand in both of hers. ‘Don’t you worry about a thing,’ she said. ‘You are safe now, and we’re going to make you comfortable. You’ll soon be going home.’

  Her voice trembled as she spoke. Both his eyes had been shot through, the top of his face a mangled mess of blood and mud.

  This young soldier would never see anything again. Not in this world.

  *

  That summer month, more usually known for beach holidays and basking in the sun, would be remembered by Angelina as an endless nightmare. As each day was succeeded by another exactly like it, time seemed to stay still and hang suspended, waiting for some conclusion, some relief, some release.

  Her duties, as with everyone else on the nursing staff, became rhythmical, from the mundane and methodical to the extraordinary and unbelievable. It became quite normal for Angelina to work part of most days in the operating theatre, and what she was seeing both fascinated and shocked her. Going from having merely watched the procedures at St Thomas’s to actually assisting the surgeons as they amputated limbs or bored through skulls, was a gigantic step. Yet she admitted that she preferred being in the operating theatre than working on the wards. For one thing, the patient was usually quiet and still – though that was not always the case as anaesthetic was sometimes in short supply – and to observe the skill of the surgeons as they sawed into a body or screwed joints and bones back in place, never failed to amaze Angelina. Although she had never been a theatre nurse at home, she remembered enough of what she had seen and read about that she could react to everything demanded of her without hesitation. She knew the names of all the instruments by heart, and knew what each one was for. When they were called for, they were in the surgeon’s hands within a second. All of which meant that barely a day passed without Nurse Green being requested for urgent theatre duty.

  The days and weeks passed by relentlessly, with more soldiers arriving all the time, and by now the injuries of the wounded had become familiar, Put simply, it was a case of attempting to keep smashed bodies alive by whichever means were available, and it had to be admitted that although seeing such terrible injuries was always grossly disturbing, all the nurses had become able to treat the wounded as Heather’s father had once advised. Think with your head, not with your heart. This is all pretend. While that could have appeared heartless, it was the only way, and it got the job done.

  Even more difficult to deal with was the continuous stream of soldiers coming in with shellshock. At first it was hard to take in. Grown men, young men, not horribly wounded in the body but desperately ill in the mind. Gibbering and muttering, shouting out swear words which Angelina had never heard in her life before. Calling out for their mates who’d been killed. Going over and over what they’d seen, what they’d been through. This condition, though unusual to some of the nurses, was vaguely recognised by Angelina. Because hadn’t little Ruby gone through her own form of shellshock when she’d been no more than a baby? Hadn’t Ruby been subjected to terrible sounds, terrible hurts, which had left her unable to talk for the first few years of her life? And at first, when she did speak, it was usually gabbling and stuttering, accompanied by throwing herself against the wall in a frenzy. And hadn’t she, Angelina, instinctively known how to help? By listening to her, talking quietly, distracting the damaged mind with simpler, happier thoughts and diversions. It had taken time, but Ruby had recovered.

  Angelina sighed deeply. Perhaps some of these poor men were so far gone that there’d be no cure for them, but others would get better if they were patient, and in the right hands. Until then, she would console them as best she could. She would tell them to hold on and think of the moment they would all be back home enjoying that first pint of bitter in an English pub.

  The following weeks proved more arduous than ever, with more and more casualties coming in each day, and one morning the nurses were woken at 4 a.m. to deal with a convoy of wounded who’d just arrived. There appeared to be only about fifteen who were able to walk, the rest were on stretchers, and Angel
ina, with Jane right beside her, walked quickly forward.

  ‘Whatever can we do with this one, Jane?’ Angelina murmured as they reached a stretcher holding a soldier with his chest shot through, his intestines sticking out through his ribs. But at almost the same moment, the young lad said cheerfully, ‘Well, what do you know! Two gorgeous girls have come to my rescue!’

  Angelina gasped inwardly. How could anyone with such injuries even talk, never mind make a joke! As usual, Jane chipped in.

  ‘We’ve been waiting for you, soldier,’ she said heartily. ‘What kept you?’

  He managed a grin. ‘Bloody Germans, that’s what, Miss,’ he said. Then his expression crumbled, and he groaned, ‘I hope you’ve got some of the hard stuff on hand – I could down a whole damn bottle all to myself.’

  ‘Coming up! Jane said. ‘With some ice and lemon, of course! Now, you lie still and we’ll get you into the ward.’ She beckoned to one of the orderlies to take the stretcher.

  Angelina said quietly, ‘Isn’t it amazing that they can keep so cheerful, with all they’re going through?’ She shook her head slowly.

  Jane replied, ‘Isn’t what we’re doing, Angelina? Isn’t that the only way we get through anything that ruddy life throws at us? All the ups and downs?’

  Angelina didn’t reply to that, but wondered what Jane had meant because from everything she had said about her past had suggested that she’d been born with a silver spoon in her mouth, with everything going her way. She had never thought to ask Angelina about her past.

  The nurses went on from one stretcher to another, and as Angelina approached one at the far end of the row, the soldier called out, ‘Danke, Miss, danke …?

  ‘Danke?’ That was a German, a German prisoner lying helplessly and begging for assistance. Angelina’s first, fleeting thought was – this is an enemy soldier who’s been wounding and killing our own men. How can I possibly care for him. How can I possibly care about him?

  But before those thoughts were even a second old, Angelina had gone straight over to him. This was not a vile German enemy but a sick human being, a young man forced into conflict, far away from hearth and home, and he was terribly wounded. Both his arms appeared completely useless and the dressing on his head was seeping blood and pus. She smiled down at him and murmured the only two words she knew in German.

  ‘Guten Morgen,’ she said quietly. ‘Good morning.’ And she was rewarded by a pathetically grateful smile. She touched his cheek gently. ‘We are going to the hospital.’ He smiled again. ‘To make you better,’ she said. ‘And one day you will be going back home.’

  As she watched him eventually being taken to the ward, Angelina realised that he was the only German she had ever met face to face. In fact, the only foreigner from any country. She had been brought up in the caring, secluded environment of the Garfield orphanage, and although she knew that Miss Kingston would never have turned any child away, whatever colour or creed, Angelina had only ever met English people.

  Suddenly, amongst all this mud and mayhem, all the swearing and cries of distress, Angelina thought of home. As soon as she came off duty, she would write to Miss Kingston.

  But it was another three weeks before she was off duty for long enough to sit down with her pen and paper.

  It was quite late at night, others alongside her in an exhausted sleep or two still on the wards, and propping herself up on her pillow, Angelina began, remembering what they’d been told. All letters would be read and vetted before posting, and no details of their whereabouts or what they were doing were to be revealed.

  Dear Miss Kingston

  This is the first moment that I have been able to actually sit down and write to you, and I’m sorry for the delay. But we are kept so busy that by the time our shift has ended all we do is flop down on our beds and go to sleep. Two of the nurses in the hut are here now, out for the count!

  I am only allowed to tell you that I am using my nursing abilities to the full and so far, I am managing all right, learning a lot as I go along. The friends sharing our hut are all very nice and we have become quite close – probably because most of us are having to deal with medical cases we’d never have thought to experience, and it’s a comfort to talk to each other about our feelings. But we manage to have a laugh now and again, and the food is pretty good. Not like Mrs Haines’s, I must admit, but we get so hungry that quantity rather than quality is the first expectation!

  I have no idea when I might be allowed home for a rest – it hasn’t even been mentioned – but we do get time off now and again and it’s not too long a walk to some small shops. Not that any of us feel like shopping, but it’s a relief to think of other things just for a little while.

  I think of all of you such a lot and hope all is well. Give my love to everyone (including Mrs Marshall!) and especially to Miss Jones who I know is taking care of Ruby for me – not that I think Ruby needs much taking care of, but it’s still nice to think of that. And should you see them, please give my regards to Mr Randolph and Mr Alexander.

  Please don’t worry about me, Miss Kingston. I am taking great care not to become ill or do something silly, which would make my presence here worthless. But I am not afraid to say that despite all I see and do here, I am happy. That’s strange, isn’t it? But you know, better than anyone, how much I’ve always wanted to grow up quickly and do what I’m doing now. One day, I will be able to tell you all about it, but that will have to wait because this terrible war shows no sign of abating.

  Good night, Miss Kingston. I send you my best love, now and always.

  Angelina.

  As she sealed down and stamped her letter, Angelina sighed briefly. What she would like to have added – because it would have helped to ease the sorrow in her heart – was that tomorrow, she was to assist at the operation on the young German who was having both his arms amputated.

  Chapter 13

  18th November 1916

  Autumn came early that year, accompanied by endless rain, which meant that the hundreds upon hundreds of wounded soldiers arriving were always plastered from head to foot in thick brown mud, their life blood mixed up with the filth.

  The very worst thing for Angelina was seeing the rows and rows of dead piled up in the mortuary which was always full to overflowing. There was little time or opportunity for much dignity, and each body was merely covered by a single blanket, and with bare feet sticking out. To her, that was the saddest sight because these soldiers were now beyond her help – she was useless to them. There was no more chance to relieve their suffering, and it felt like a personal failure, as if Nurse Green hadn’t got to them quickly enough.

  But Angelina soon managed to quell her morbidity because she knew such thoughts were silly. She worked tirelessly all day, and many nights with little time off, and would go on doing so until she dropped. She was 16 years old … 16? Time, and the experiences which had gone with it, had made her grow up very quickly, and inside, she felt that she was at least 60!

  Early one morning, Dr Lewis sent word to all the nursing staff that that they should report to him immediately, and Angelina and the others quickly got into their uniforms. What now, they wondered.

  They, and other nurses, arrived at the doctor’s office which was the small tent at the entrance to the hospital where they had received their first instructions. How long ago that seemed now, Angelina thought. Dr Lewis came straight to the point.

  ‘We have been informed that fighting this particular battle has now ceased,’ he said, his voice expressionless. ‘Of course, it does not mean that we shan’t be receiving any more casualties – far from it, because there’ll be a massive backlog, but—’

  Angelina couldn’t hold back. ‘I’m sorry, do you mean the war is over?’ she said incredulously. And for the first time that morning she suddenly realised that the relentless booming of guns had stopped, making it feel comparatively peaceful. That hideous din had become so much the norm, she hadn’t even noticed it was no longer there.
<
br />   ‘No, I’m afraid the war is certainly not over, Nurse Green,’ the doctor said, ‘but the battle of the Somme has been halted because it has reached an impasse, and apparently it is thought a stand-off is the more sensible decision.’

  There was a stunned silence as they all took in this news, then Jane said, ‘So all the men who have lost their limbs and their lives have done so for absolutely nothing? That this … this ghastly bloody mayhem has been a complete waste of time?’ Her voice trembled with emotion and there was a general murmur of agreement at her words. A fight that nobody won? How could that possibly be?

  Dr Lewis shrugged. ‘It must look like that,’ he said slowly, ‘but presumably lessons have been learned along the way so that future plans are better formulated and the same mistakes not repeated.’

  Angelina looked at him quickly. She could see that he, too, was deeply upset at this unexpected turnaround of events. All the blood which had been spilt, the countless lives damaged beyond repair …

  All because the war lords sitting comfortably in their offices had got it wrong.

  The doctor turned briskly. ‘Right, well now you know as much as I do,’ he said, ‘and our work will continue as normal for many weeks. Casualties will be coming over until the battlefield has been cleared, and this will probably take some time.’ Dr Lewis allowed himself a brief smile. ‘So I don’t want any of you to feel that you are no longer essential here, because you are.’ He hesitated for a second. ‘And this might be a good moment to thank you all for the sterling work you have put in from the moment you arrived. I, and the other doctors, could not have managed without a single one of you.’ He smiled again. ‘Of course, that was only interim praise because you are certain to deserve much more of it before the end of all this. I’m afraid the war hasn’t finished with you, or with any of us, yet,’ he added.

  Heather suddenly spoke. ‘When things have quietened here,’ she said, ‘will we be sent elsewhere?’

  The doctor nodded. ‘Yes, though we haven’t been told much yet. But it’s obvious that fighting is still going on all along the Front, so it’s likely that you will all be despatched to wherever the need is.’ He paused. ‘See what a war does for you,’ he said, attempting a feeble joke. ‘You are being given the opportunity to do some travelling and see different places.’