The next afternoon, Cam left her with farewell kisses, and a tearful Maisie waved him off. By seven in the evening she stood in the office receiving instructions to join a temporary hospital based at the docks. Their mission was top secret, and they were to support as serving members of a major invasion.
Maisie learned that she was being drafted in as a replacement for a nurse on compassionate leave and was told that her duty was to assist in the care of any casualties brought back from the ‘far shore’. She was to ask no questions and not to repeat anything she overheard. Realising that she was about to be thrust into the middle of a major event which could be the downfall of the enemy, Maisie did not falter when she signed official papers signifying her agreement not to share any information and to agree her status as volunteer.
Upon closing the office door, Maisie took a moment to realise that Cam was most definitely part of the campaign. He’d hinted at a big event. Maisie tried not to imagine him parachuting into enemy waters whilst she waited to care for the injured, but a tumble of questions still rolled around her mind, firing off like a machine gun.
Could she do it? Could she wait there without thinking of the worst outcomes for those she loved? Was she up to the job? Inside Holly Bush House it was different; she knew her skill level and never pushed beyond it for fear of making mistakes. Out there in the mix of such a major event she’d have to deal with far more than she’d ever witnessed. Maisie’s thoughts tumbled and turned. Was she capable enough? Would she hold her nerve? What if she made a dreadful mistake?
She stood looking to the skies and thought back over the years and reprimanded herself for her self-doubt. She’d rarely made mistakes with her patient care, so why think she might now. She coped under pressure and thought back to the night she had to take control of Holly Bush when it was an orphanage. No mean feat for a terrified young girl. She had grown up in a way she’d never imagined. The tasks she’d dealt with had certainly given her the strength to face her future. She’d been acknowledged as a tower of strength by many patients and staff, an accolade she dismissed with embarrassment.
Today, Maisie recalled dealing with Gloria, Norah, and the happier times after their deaths when she’d been in charge of the children, like when she released them from chores and gave them time to run about outside and explore, to bring back their findings for discussion. She remembered the Christmas they all received personal gifts and wondered how many still had them. She knew Deedee had a happy life because contact with her parents had never dwindled. Maisie wrote to them about Cam and Jack, and they wrote of Deedee’s achievements, from first words to toddling. Maisie reflected upon her handling of the orphanage for that brief period and a fleeting sense of pride came over her. The few remaining residents in her care had left with happy memories to override the miserable ones. Much like her life with Cam and Jack.
By the time Maisie and the other nurses were ready to leave for the docks, and they joined others in the same position for instructions and extra training, Maisie didn’t have a minute to herself and all doubts about her ability to perform without faltering fled her mind.
Standing on the western docks battling against the elements, Maisie looked on in amazement at the vast number of vehicles of all shapes and sizes moving along the streets in an orderly queue. The noise of their engines and that of the hundreds of American and British servicemen going about their business penetrated her eardrums until they tingled. She stood, proud of them all, mock saluting those who saluted her as she waited for full instructions from the senior in charge of operations.
She laughed at soldiers who whistled out to her and the other girls around her, and grinned at those who shouted out ‘Red, I love you – wait for me’ and other amusing declarations. Nervous energy drove everyone to do their best, and Maisie absorbed each instruction with perfect concentration. Large vessels were loaded with what she learned were landing craft assault vehicles and she watched as they sailed out to the Solent then sat and waited for the signal to leave.
Dark shadows fell as the sky filled with friendly planes. The drone of their engines, their thunderous roar, vibrated across the concrete plinth Maisie stood on for a better view. She experienced a moment of pride, but it was soon stifled by a stab of fear and realisation that Cam could be sitting inside, waiting to jump from any one of them.
She slid her hand into her pocket to feel her ring that was pinned inside. Each time she touched it she thought of Cam and it gave her hope for his return. He was out there somewhere waiting to board a plane, sitting in one, or already fighting it out with the enemy across the water. She had guessed they were headed to France when an orderly mentioned something about Normandy during a training session.
The preparation of the temporary tarpaulin hospitals took days and once the conflict started, they were filled with victims waiting to be shipped out to specialist hospitals – or for some, to the hastily erected morgues.
Every day another batch of vehicles and soldiers arrived to be sent across the water. On British soil, the secret no longer held firm; the word was out with regard to the horrors happening on the beaches. Thousands of soldiers were dispatched to France from Southampton and when a contingent of Canadian units were loaded and sent on their way, Maisie cried as much as if they were the British soldiers she’d sobbed over the previous day. Her depth of feeling for Cam and their plans to settle there once the war was over, gave her a sense of belonging to Canada, and the men reminded her of her promised future. The strength of that promise was now weakened by the grisly scenes she witnessed on a daily basis. If Cam came back to her alive it would be a miracle, but she had to hold on to the faith of a marriage, of children, and of a life chasing their dreams.
Every day she stood anxiously waiting to receive a group of injured soldiers while watching the fit and healthy sail away. Like lambs to the slaughter was a term which sprang to mind. Send them out laughing, return them screaming. A conveyer belt of heroes.
For days she did nothing but work, sleep, eat, and nurse. Her wrist ached from writing records and holding the hands of men in agony. Her legs cramped and her back throbbed through standing for so long, but Maisie endured whatever was thrown at her. The more she witnessed, the more she was grateful for the sacrifices made on her behalf. Her colleagues worked at the same dogged pace, each one looking more and more tired and drained, yet, like her, wearing a mask of determination and dedication.
On June 10th, she drew upon a reservoir of strength she never knew she had when stretcher after stretcher was unloaded into their care. She watched a doctor wipe away a tear when a young man thanked him for keeping him alive. Maisie knew the young sapper wouldn’t make it through the next hour, but he muttered out his humble thanks until his last breath. The doctor needed a break and Maisie went to him.
‘I’ll stand by here. I’ll mark them up for pain relief and register what I can. Go and get a drink, take a break. If I need help, I’ll call someone, but at the moment they are all dealt with. When another group arrives, I’ll send word. I can mop brows and hold hands, and that’s all they need right now. Go, before I change my mind.’
‘It’s a nightmare. I’ve just spoken to a Canadian guy who said their battalions have nearly been wiped out. Heroes, every man out there,’ the doctor said, his voice cracking from exhaustion and a parched throat.
Maisie inhaled and slowly let out her breath. His words sent shockwaves through her. Cam! Her knees buckled. Sweat beads formed on her upper lip and she cuffed them away. A panic attack was not useful to their situation. She needed to gain control of herself; as much as she wanted to think only of Cam, there were others in need of support.
‘My fiancé is out there, I’m sure of it. He’s a paratrooper, a Canadian. I daren’t think about it. God this is awful, dreadful.’
Her life without Cam in it was an unbearable thought, and so she pushed it to the back of her mind for fear that thinking about it would make it happen.
‘I’m sorry. It was tactle
ss of me,’ the doctor said.
Maisie shook her head. ‘You weren’t to know. Go, get your rest. I’ve a feeling this is only the start of our workload. Look, more coming.’
She nudged the doctor towards the resting station, urging him forward each time he turned around, guilt and concern written across his face.
‘Come back refreshed and stronger,’ Maisie called to him, and he waved a feeble hand in the air in response.
Twilight slunk back to allow darkness its place on the quayside as Maisie walked her rounds. Other staff took short breaks or dealt with their patients’ needs. It was a well-oiled machine.
Maisie had her two-hour sleep break and rose before dawn. She took a moment to send words to Cam on the morning breeze as she dragged her aching body outside in the fresh air. The sleeping quarters always suffocated her, and whilst she stretched, she recalled Cam talking about wide open spaces. Peace and flowing rivers sounded perfect, but in her present, she knew she’d be facing screams and anguish for the next ten hours or more.
Strengthened by her breakfast and two cups of strong tea, she headed towards her station for the day, accepted her patient care list, and set about her duties. When word filtered through that the troops in France had made headway and defeated large pockets of the enemy, Maisie shared her delight with the others she worked alongside. Something shifted in their mood and a new atmosphere of fresh energy emerged. Hope had arrived. An hour into her duties, she heard someone call her name. An orderly at the end of the receiving tent beckoned her over.
‘Maisie Reynolds?’ he asked.
‘That’s me.’
‘You’re needed in tent two, pronto,’ he said and pointed to his left.
Maisie nodded and relayed the message to her colleague that she was required elsewhere. Outside, the scene took her by surprise and she held her breath, unable to release it as she took in the mass of bloodied bodies and walking wounded. Her legs refused to move; it was like something from a nightmare which she knew would remain with her for all her days.
Remembering that tent two had called for her and was obviously short-staffed, she ran the short distance to its entrance. Inside, the system was chaotic, with howling screams of men in agony and staff shouting out orders or requests for help. Maisie grabbed the nearest clipboard and went to receive her first patient.
‘Maisie. Here,’ a voice called to her and she turned to see Christine waving her over.
‘You take over here. I’ll see to receiving. I’ve arranged transport back to Holly Bush House for you.’
With a puzzled frown, Maisie looked at her. Christine gave her a sympathetic smile and looked back at the patient she’d just injected with morphine.
A twisted face stared up at the ceiling, and she just about recognised him as Jack. The label across his chest confirmed it was her brother. A gush of bile threatened to break free as she stared into his burned face. She went to hold his hand but noticed great swathes of bandaging covering them. Christine touched her arm and gave her a soft smile of sympathy; Maisie knew she had to find a new level of strength to get through supporting him until the end.
‘Hello, Jack,’ she whispered softly.
He twisted his body in agitation and she laid her hand onto his right leg, which was the only place without a bandage.
‘It’s all right, I’m here. Maisie’s here. I’ll take care of you. We’re going home to rest. Back to Holly Bush House together. We’ll be safe there; it’s a safe place now. Just rest.’
She dipped a strip of cloth into a bowl of water and pressed it against his lips.
‘This will help keep your mouth moist. It won’t be long, and we’ll be out of here and in the quiet.’
Jack blinked.
‘It’s noisy. I know.’
The journey back to Holly Bush seemed to take forever, but by four o’clock Maisie had seen Jack transferred into a more comfortable bed in a quiet ward. She left him sleeping through his morphine dose in the capable hands of some other nurses, whilst she took the opportunity to wash, eat, and grab some rest. The staff were under strict instructions to come and fetch her the minute he woke.
At eight o’clock, a tap at her door roused her, and Maisie leapt to her feet and pulled it open.
She squealed with shock and thrust her fist to her mouth. Cam stood in the doorway looking the worst she’d ever seen him. He stared wide-eyed, his face smeared with streaks of blood and what looked like oil. She stepped aside to let him in, and he staggered and lurched towards the couch.
Maisie said nothing. She didn’t need to ask how he was; she had a clear visual picture.
He was bruised and battered, haunted by all he’d seen.
‘You came back to me,’ was all she said.
Cam put his head down to his knees and tucked his arms behind his neck linking his fingers. He rocked backwards and forwards. She heard him sniff away tears and moan. His clothing was not his usual smart uniform, and his boots bore the white marks of dried seawater.
His distress concerned her and she went to him. As she touched his shoulder he flinched away. His action frightened her; the Cam she loved would never flinch from her touch. Seeing him in such anguish broke her in two. She needed to find a way to comfort him but each time she touched him, he reacted as if she’d struck him.
‘Cam?’
Nothing.
‘Cam, come with me to the main building. Let’s get you checked over.’
He shook his head and continued to rock. Maisie had seen this form of distress before and she worried that if Cam were allowed to continue, he’d never stop. His mind was as damaged as Jack’s body was.
‘If you can’t move, Cam, if it’s all too much, then take off your boots and rest here. I have to go back to work … to nurse Jack.’
Cam’s sudden movement startled her. He leapt to his feet and looked around with frantic movements.
‘Jack’s here? Here? Where, upstairs?’ Cam’s voice became as frantic as his movements. He paced like a caged animal.
Maisie shook her head. ‘No. In the quiet room over at the main house.’
Cam’s rocking started again; he swayed on his feet.
‘Sit down. I’ll stay. They know to come and fetch me when he wakes up. He’s had plenty of morphine so probably won’t wake for a while.’
Cam slumped into the seat.
‘It’s my fault. He’s hurt because of me.’
Maisie frowned. ‘I’m sure that’s not true, Cam.’
‘He saved my life.’
‘That I can believe, but you could never hurt him; that’s not something I’ll accept. Tell me about it.’
Maisie sat beside him and took his hands in hers. She felt his body trembling against her and closed her eyes against the fear that his mind was suffering beyond help. For Cam not to return whole was beyond her comprehension.
‘Talk to me, Cam. Tell me,’ she said softly.
CHAPTER 31
‘We flew over them. Men pushing through dead bodies in the water, wading towards the enemy with their guns held high. One by one they were picked out like tin cans at a fairground. Down they fell.’ Cam’s voice cracked with emotion as he spoke and Maisie stroked the back of his hand to sooth him.
‘The water was a dirty pink where the blood mixed with oil. I dropped down beyond the beach, on the edge of Courseulles, a small town. I managed to achieve my objective, to get a message to the resistance and get out again. I had to head back to Juno Beach, and report back my findings via the wireless.’
Cam took another deep breath and began rocking again; Maisie put her arms tightly around him.
‘If it’s too much, don’t tell me. Don’t distress yourself.’
Cam turned to face her. ‘I have to tell you. I have to get it out of my head. If you can bear it …’
Maisie held his hands. ‘I can bear it, if it helps you.’
‘I knew I’d not be flying back to England after I found the wireless operator; it was carnage. The only thing I could
do was to seek out a ship on its return. As I waded out towards a small temporary landing, we took incoming and the whole thing catapulted us into the air. I heard gunshots and screams as I hit the water. I cracked my knee and elbow on a landing vehicle.’
Pulling him closer, Maisie draped a blanket around him to help with the shivering, although she doubted he was cold; it was shock, she was sure.
‘I trod water for a while and clung on to a piece of the shattered platform. The enemy sprayed us with bullets and I watched men sink in front of my eyes. I was helpless. It was helpless. I kept calling out for you. I knew you’d help me.’
Wishing she had a whisky to offer him, Maisie made a note to ask for some when she returned to the main building. Her need to see to her brother was superseded by the desperate state of her fiancé, but she wasn’t sure how much longer Jack had to live and a sliver of guilt shimmied through her. She remained silent, but knew she would have to step away if one of the nurses came to get her.
‘I wish I’d been able to help you. Go on,’ she encouraged.
‘The landing crafts were filling with bodies, both dead and alive. I scrambled towards one just as it was shelled. I must have hit my head because all I remember is my mouth filling with water, then blackness.’ Cam sighed and rubbed his eyes.
‘It’s all a bit vague. I remember hearing someone call out, “Hey Canadian,” and I came too, but even after that there were moments of blacking out that dragged me under again. A hand grabbed me, and all I heard was me yelling out your name, and as I opened my eyes, a man looked back at me. For a second I thought it was you with your lovely eyes staring into mine, so I screamed for you to save me, to help me. I tried not to, but I couldn’t stop. The man told me to keep calm and encouraged me to breathe and stay awake. All I could hear was his voice; the other noises faded away. He kept repeating himself, but I kept screaming out for you. Then it went calm. I enjoyed the calmness and I embraced it, but his voice kept yelling back at me, “Stay with me, stay with me. I’m here to save you. Friend not foe.” He told me that his sister was called Maisie and she was in love with a Canadian chap named Cam. He said, “Don’t tell me fate has introduced us at a water party courtesy of Hitler? I’m Jack. Soon to be your brother-in-law, I understand.” Maisie, he held me and brought me back to life. Your brother saved me, but becau—’
The Forgotten Orphan: The heartbreaking and gripping World War 2 historical novel Page 23
