Fig. 5 Depiction of the Battle of the Somme
ANZAC Battlefield Hospital on the Somme – The Following Morning
Elizabeth arose from her cot and suggested to Margaret, “We’d better get something to eat. The attack has clearly begun, and we’re going to be inundated with casualties soon, I’m quite certain of it. I doubt we shall have another chance for sustenance within the next twenty-four hours.”
Rising to her feet, Margaret responded, “I agree,” but then, without warning, she threw up.
“Margaret, are you alright?”
Still gagging, Margaret grunted, “Yes, it’s nothing to be worried about. I’m alright. It’s just this damn war. Come on. Let’s go eat.”
The pair set out for the mess tent, but Elizabeth had not forgotten the incident. As a result, once they had obtained their rations and found a spot to sit, Elizabeth posited, “Margaret, I can only think of two reasons that you should be sick, and neither is good. Which is it?”
“I suppose I can’t hide it any longer,” Margaret responded, “I’m pregnant.”
“Oh, God, Margaret! I was afraid of that!”
“Yes, well, there it is, nonetheless.”
“How did you manage to get yourself in such a fix?”
Margaret frowned at Elizabeth incredulously, then responded matter-of-factly, “The usual way, I suppose.”
Glancing suspiciously at Margaret, Elizabeth queried, “Do we know who the father is, perchance?”
“Yes, of course I do.”
“Someone I know?”
“No, no, just a soldier I met. You know, one of those forlorn-looking wide-eyed boys, the walking wounded, back from the front, lost, and in need of motherly protection. I just felt sorry for him. Couldn’t help myself, I suppose, it was bound to happen sooner or later, and I gave over in a moment of weakness.”
“Was it just the one time, Margaret?”
“God, yes. My very first time, and I have to go and get pregnant.”
“What are you going to do about it?” Elizabeth inquired vapidly.
At this Margaret blurted, “What do you mean?”
“You’re going to be showing before long, you know.”
“Oh, that,” Margaret mumbled dismissively, “I’m not going to worry about if for the moment. With your help, I’m quite certain I can keep it a secret for at least two or three more months. I suppose I shall have to go back to England when the time comes.”
The Following Day
Robert felt the brush of her soft kiss and, concentrating carefully on the tiniest feature of it, his mind pulsated in exhilaration. But she drifted away and, his eyes opening reflexively, he sensed a voice exclaiming, “Doctor, he’s awake! He’s coming to!”
“What is this?” he thought to himself, “Where did she go? Where is that wanton sprite of a woman?” then quite aloud, “Damn! Where’d she go to?”
Flashing an intrusive light in Robert’s eyes, the doctor asked, “Who?”
Blinking in irritation at this imposition, Robert murmured unintelligibly, “Uh, uhm, I forget…must’ve been a dream…”
“Captain Sutherland, I’m Dr. Murchison,” the doctor exclaimed, “Can you hear me?”
“Yeah,” Robert responded in apparent irritation and, feeling a jab, he complained, “Ow! That hurts! Ow! Stop it! Stop poking me, dammit!”
Arising upright, the doctor observed, “Now, nothing to worry about. That’s a good sign. Do you know where you are, soldier?”
Still groggy, Robert mumbled, “No…”
“You’re in the field hospital, behind the front lines. You’re lucky to be alive. You’ve been unconscious for nearly two days. You were hit in the left shoulder. You apparently struck your head when you fell. Strangely enough, that just might have saved your life. You collapsed in such a way that the blood flow was serendipitously staunched quite effectively. I’m afraid there is some bone damage, but it appears there is no infection. Do you understand me?”
“Yes, yes, I do,” Robert replied drowsily.
“You just rest now, Captain. You should make a full recovery, but it’s going to take a bit of time, I’m afraid,” and at this the doctor turned to depart.
Only now becoming fully awake, Robert exclaimed, “Wait! What happened to Sergeant Shillings. Is he alright?”
“I’m afraid I have no information regarding your sergeant, Captain,” the doctor replied. “You get some rest. I’ll check back with you tomorrow.”
Toward Nightfall of the Same Day
Still drifting in and out of consciousness, Robert heard a soft and soothing voice say, “Hello, Robert.”
Assuming that he was dreaming, he gazed up into her eyes and murmured woozily, “Margaret…so nice to see you. I knew you’d come. I’ve missed you so…”
“Wake up, Robert,” she cooed affectionately, “Wake up – you’re not dreaming.”
Abruptly sensing it was real, he lurched upwards but, feeling intense pain, he fell back and asked, “Margaret! Is it really you? What are you doing here?”
“I work here,” she replied matter-of-factly. “After all, this is the ANZAC field hospital, but I assume that you already knew that, as you are obviously here for treatment.”
“Yes, yes, of course,” he croaked, “But is this real, or am I still dreaming?”
“It’s real. What would convince you?” she queried empathetically.
“I don’t know…” he murmured, “I know, pinch me!”
Jabbing him in the arm, she exclaimed, “How’s that!”
“Ow! Stop it!” he howled, “Okay, that’s good! You must be real!”
“I should hope so,” she replied matter-of-factly, “Why would you think otherwise?”
Now fully awake, he responded, “It’s just that, I didn’t realize that you had also been deployed here. All in all, it does seem likely, though.”
“Yes, well, it’s not only likely, it’s a fact,” she observed and, continuing to maintain her matronly veneer, she explained, “I’ve been assigned to administer to the wounded, Robert. How are you feeling?”
“Like I was run over by a tank,” he replied miserably.
“Yes, you were struck quite badly, and then, there was the injury to your head, when you apparently fell. And to make matters worse, you’ve had quite a bit of sedative to help you sleep.”
Apparently losing his train of thought, he replied in confusion, “Well, whatever it is, I feel like I’m already dead,”
“You just rest, dear Robert. We shall take quite good care of you,” and at this she kissed his open palm discretely. But by that time he had already drifted into unconsciousness.
Two Days Later
As if from afar, Robert heard a voice exclaim, “Robert! Can you hear me? Robert?” and then, somehow more urgently, “Robert!”
Dragging his eyes open in an attempted to focus, he muttered in confusion, “Elizabeth?”
“Yes,” she crooned tenderly, “Robert, you’re alright. Wake up!”
Rolling his head to one side, he blubbered, “No, want to sleep…”
At this she slapped him gently across the face, commanding, “Robert, you must wake up. No more sleep for now. Wake up!” and she slapped him gently yet again.
He regaled softly, “Alright! Stop thrashing me!” then admitted sedately, “I’m awake. What do you want?”
“Robert! You’ve been wounded. Do you remember?”
At this, he suddenly opened his eyes and blurted, “Oh…right. Sorry about that, Elizabeth,” and, drawing one leg up, he observed, “Right, now I remember. I got nicked in the shoulder. Just a little cut.”
“Right, well, it was quite a lot more than that, Robert. You were lucky, my friend. There were no internal organs hit, but you lost quite a bit of blood. The doctor says you’ll make a full recovery, but you need rest to recover from the blood loss. You’ll be in the hospital for a couple of weeks or more.”
“Sounds like f
un,” he said and, giggling at his own poor attempt at humor, he winced and grumbled, “Ow! I must remember, no laughter for a while…”
Observing this rather bizarre behavior, she proffered, “You really should try to rest.”
Ignoring her advice, he suddenly inquired, “Say, how’s Sergeant Shillings?”
“I’m afraid he didn’t make it, Robert.”
“Damn!” he blurted futilely, “Too many good men killed, and all for naught.”
“You just rest now. We’ll take good care of you,” Elizabeth said. “But don’t go to sleep. I’ll be right back with some food. You simply must eat. Then you can go back to sleep. Understand?”
“Yes, sir!” Robert half mumbled. “Awake! Food!” But then he immediately drifted off yet again.
A Week Later
He awoke to a sound and, realizing immediately that it was nighttime, he whispered, “Who’s there?”
“It’s me, Robert – Elizabeth,” she replied.
“Ah, Elizabeth!” he murmured. Now fully awake, he inquired, “How are you? I’ve not seen you since Gallipoli. Or, er, maybe I have…did I dream you, or have I seen you since I was brought here?”
“Yes, you’ve seen me several times since you were wounded.”
“Ah, so I wasn’t dreaming,” he confirmed to himself, “And Margaret, did I in fact dream her?”
“No, that was real as well. She was on duty when they brought you in.”
“That’s good. Lately, it’s been difficult to discern reality,” he observed.
“Yes, well, it will all come right from here on,” she announced encouragingly.
Seeming to notice her for the first time, he now asked, “Are you well, Elizabeth?”
“Yes, I’m just fine, Robert. And you, how are you feeling?”
“Better, thanks to you. And Margaret – is she also well?”
“Oh, she is quite well. She said you’re lucky to be alive.”
“Seemed like a slight wound to me, Elizabeth,” he observed, “When you’ve lived through what we have, anything you can walk away from seems more or less insignificant.”
“Well, you didn’t actually walk away, did you? And just so you will know, the doctor says, another cup full of blood lost, and you should have most likely perished.”
He stared at her and, not in the slightest bit troubled as to the possibility of his own death, he observed glibly, “One more corpse for the burial mound. Not a problem…”
She peered at him in horror and, tears welling up within her at what this awful war had done to her dear friend, she sobbed, “Stop it, Robert! I won’t hear of it! You are far too dear to me…”
“Oh, sorry, Elizabeth, dear Elizabeth…” he mumbled and, glancing about him, he suddenly noticed within the enveloping darkness that the other soldiers in the room were all sound asleep. Frowning to himself, he asked in puzzlement, “Say, what time is it, anyway?”
“It’s two in the morning, Robert.”
“What are you doing here at two in the morning, Elizabeth?”
Catching his eyes with hers, she announced, “I’m waiting for you to wake up, that’s what I’m doing here.”
Noticing her intense gaze, he replied curiously, “Why ever on earth for?”
Smiling impishly at him, she whispered, “Because I have a present for you, and I don’t want to share it with anyone else.”
“A present? What sort of present?” he inquired.
“You’ll see,” and at this, she stood and removed her blouse, then subsequently, her brassiere. “There now,” she whispered with palpable embarrassment, “Well, Robert, what do you think?”
Stunned by her wanton display, but nonetheless aware that decorum required just the right response, he posited, “Very nice, Elizabeth. Actually, that is an understatement. Under the circumstances, Tis undoubtedly the most enticing display I’ve ever laid eyes on,” and, now adjusting to the gorgeous orbs before him, he asked in appreciation of such an unanticipated gift, “To what do I owe this wonderful offering? And please don’t tell me it’s the last gift to a dying man!”
“No, it’s most certainly not that. You’re going to live, dear Robert. It’s just something I’ve been meaning to do. You see, you’ve earned something special for your service, indeed, for your sacrifice, and this is the best I could think to offer as a reward.”
“Well, I must say, war has its unexpected silver lining,” He noted and, still studying the display before him, he confessed, “Lovely, dear Elizabeth, absolutely lovely. I cannot deny that I’ve often wondered what might be lurking beneath your exterior…”
“Thank you,” she responded proudly, “And now you know.” She then replaced her clothing.
“I am wondering,” Robert queried, “Why ever did you do that for me, Elizabeth?”
“I thought you might ask that,” she volunteered, “Remember that night on Arthur’s Seat?”
“Yes, of course. Who could forget? The night of the knickers. Which one of you was it, anyway?”
“It was Margaret,” she rejoined frankly, “I simply couldn’t go through with it, if you must know. Margaret said she was going to give you boys a show, and she certainly did. I on the other hand was much too shy for that sort of thing.”
“Ah, I see,” he responded, “But what has that to do with tonight?”
“Oh, well, later on, when we found out that Richard had died, I began to think that perhaps it wasn’t such a bad thing after all – that the boys in uniform were in fact deserving of some sort of reward for their sacrifices.”
“And Margaret? What of her, Elizabeth?”
“Oh, she’s gone well beyond, Robert.”
“What makes you say that?”
“I’ll not say more. Suffice it to say that I know from whence I speak.”
Seeing that she could not be persuaded to divulge further, he now put in, “Speaking of Margaret, where is she?”
“Oh, she’s been transferred up the line a ways. She asked me to say hello to you, and to tell you how relieved she is that you and I shall be together again.”
“What do you suppose she meant by that, Elizabeth?”
“I don’t know, it seemed rather strange at the time. I’m really not sure quite what she meant by it, but she somehow seemed to sense that there might be something between the two of us.”
“Hmmm…” he grumbled, “Perhaps that is indeed what she intended by it.”
“Is there, Robert?”
“Is there what?”
“Is there something between us?”
Suddenly brightening, he gurgled, “Well, I should certainly hope so!”
“As do I, Robert, as do I,” she whispered, “Now, you get some rest. We shall discuss the something between us when you are feeling better.”
Not knowing quite how to respond to this, he replied, “Dear Elizabeth. Thank you. Thank you for so much. Thank you perhaps even – for my life.”
“You are welcome, dear Robert,” she said in embarrassment, “Now I shall kiss you goodnight, because in the morning they are transferring you to the hospital in Paris. Good night, Robert,” and at this, she leaned forward and gave him an endearing kiss.
“Good night, fair Elizabeth,” he responded and, aware that such moments in times of war are few and far between, he supplied an affectionate squeeze to her hand.
Seeing her now rising to depart, he announced, “Oh, just one last question before you go.”
“Yes?”
“Do you remember that night on Arthur’s Seat?”
Cocking her head in mystification, she frowned, “Of course I do.”
“You remember I gave my sporran to Margaret?”
“Yes, but as I recall, you promised to never mention that part of the evening,” she scolded.
“Yes, but please bear with me a moment, Elizabeth. The thing is, I’ve not seen my sporran since.”
“I say, really?”
“Quite.
Might you know what happened to it that night?”
“No, I’m sure I have no idea, Robert. I do remember giving Alastair his sporran, but I’ve no idea what happened to yours.”
“Thank you, fair Elizabeth. Good night.”
“Good night, dear Robert.”
The following morning Robert was transferred to a hospital in Paris.
Those Who Fought for Us Page 13
