Liverpool Angels

by Lyn Andrews

  ‘And we’ll be giving out a special gift to every wounded and sick man tomorrow, so Sister told me,’ Alice informed them, lowering her voice a little for it wasn’t supposed to be common knowledge yet. ‘I’ve seen them. Little white cards inscribed with gold lettering – from the King himself! Saying that he and the Queen are thinking of them and are very grateful for their suffering and all the hardships, or something like that.’ She intended to keep one back for Eddie. Oh, he wasn’t wounded now but he had been – and after what he’d done for Jimmy, in her opinion he deserved one as a keepsake.

  ‘Now it really does feel like Christmas!’ Mae laughed, gazing around at all the happy faces. Pip had pinned the brooch to her dress and she fingered it fondly.

  Pip ordered brandies for the men and wine for the girls and an old man sitting in a corner by the bar counter started to play carols on an accordion.

  Pip raised his glass. ‘This brandy should help keep the cold out. Cheers! Happy Christmas, everyone!’

  ‘Let’s hope that it will all be over by next Christmas,’ Alice said, thinking of Jimmy.

  ‘I’ll drink to that,’ Mae agreed, smiling at Pip and thinking if it was then she might well be Mrs Middlehurst next year and spending her first Christmas in Boston.

  ‘I’ll be honest, I wasn’t looking forward to this Christmas at all, but, well, isn’t it turning out … great?’ Eddie said, smiling at Lizzie. ‘And I’ve got a nice little collection of “special” things now too. My leather wallet that Uncle John brought from New York, my silver cap badge from Lord Derby, a first-class penknife and now a carved Vesta case. Aren’t I a fortunate fella?’ The brandy had warmed him up, the atmosphere was friendly and festive, even the snow outside added to the scene. He was amongst family and friends and Lizzie was smiling happily at him, plus he had a fairly warm and dry billet to return to. It all helped him to put aside the memory of last Christmas and of the mates he’d shared it with. He couldn’t stay long but he was going to enjoy what time he did have.

  The old accordion player had begun to play ‘Silent Night’ and they all joined in, English and French languages merging together as a beaming Monsieur refilled everyone’s glasses. Looking around the room as she sang, Alice thought that if Jimmy could have been with her it would have been a really memorable Christmas Eve. Her gaze fell on her brother. Eddie would have another ‘special’ thing to add to his collection tomorrow – his card of thanks from King George V. She was very proud of her brother, who had proved his courage beyond doubt and definitely deserved the royal token.

  All memories of Christmas were long past now, Mae thought as she knelt rubbing the swollen feet of a soldier with olive oil before wrapping them in cotton wool and oiled silk to try to keep them warm and get the circulation going again. She looked up at him and smiled cheerfully but she felt so sorry for him, for them all, they bore all their sufferings with such uncomplaining fortitude. ‘I’ll stick a pin in and you tell me if you can feel it,’ she said. It was part of the routine now.

  He grinned back at her. ‘If I can I’ll yell so loud they’ll hear me down at the harbour, Nurse. I’ll know then that the feeling is coming back.’

  She wiped her hands and extracted a needle from the little flannel case in her apron pocket and gently probed the white, swollen, dead flesh. There was no reaction at all.

  ‘Well, you’ll have to put up with my ministrations for a bit longer, Private Franks,’ she joked to disguise the disappointment they both felt.

  ‘I don’t mind, Nurse, I’m better off here,’ he replied quite cheerfully.

  She supposed he was. After Christmas the weather had become really atrocious. The temperature seldom rose above freezing during the day; at night it was so cold that no one got much sleep. Thick snow and ice covered the countryside, even the beaches and sand dunes. Snow disguised the shell-pocked battlefields and lines of trenches; it covered dugouts and the hospital tents and compounds. It was the coldest winter that anyone could ever remember, so Monsieur Clari had informed them, shaking his head. The ice on the ponds and rivers was feet thick. Everyone was suffering.

  It wouldn’t be any warmer in their tent, she thought, for the supply of coal for the stove was now running low. Back home the miners were on strike and again, thick freezing fog had closed the Channel ports, limiting supplies of everything. Boulogne harbour was at present blocked by a ship which had sunk and that made matters worse. Rations had been reduced and comforts were very scarce: she wished they’d hoarded some of the sweets and biscuits they’d received at Christmas. Illnesses caused by exposure amongst the troops remained common and even the medical staff were falling ill. So far, luckily she, Alice and Lizzie had suffered nothing more serious than heavy colds.

  ‘We’ll try with the pin again tomorrow, Private Franks, but it will be Nurse McEvoy who’ll be seeing to your feet. I’ve got some time off,’ she informed him, preparing to move on to the next patient.

  ‘What will you be doing, Nurse? Anything … interesting?’

  She smiled. ‘Yes, I’m going to wrap up and go for a walk with my fiancé. He’s heard of an inn in the country where you can get an omelette made with fresh eggs.’

  ‘I wish I could taste one of those, Nurse. I don’t think I’ve ever had one,’ he said.

  ‘Neither have I, Private Franks. I’ll let you know what it tastes like. Keep those feet warm,’ she instructed. She was looking forward to the outing, despite the cold. It would be good to get away from the hospital for a few hours because they really didn’t get much time together alone.

  ‘I still think you are mad,’ Alice said firmly as next day Mae pulled on her woollen mittens and wound a thick scarf around her neck. Under her coat she had four layers of clothes. ‘Wouldn’t you sooner spend your time in Monsieur Clari’s café? At least it’s warm and the coffee is hot,’ Alice pressed.

  ‘We’ll be warm enough with a brisk walk and Pip says they have pretty severe winters in Boston, so I’d better get used to it. Besides, the inn will be cosy and it will be great to spend time with just Pip.’

  Alice grinned. ‘And everyone else who has heard about their omelettes.’

  They both had rosy cheeks from the cold and their exertions, for Pip hadn’t realised that it was quite so far out as they’d tramped across the snowy fields. ‘I hope it’s worth the walk, Mae. I’ll be taking Lenny to task if it’s not, you can be darned sure of that,’ he said as at last they reached the tiny hamlet that boasted a couple of houses and the inn, aptly named ‘Le Poulet Brun’.

  ‘I won’t care as long as it’s warm!’ Mae replied, laughing. ‘My nose feels frozen. I’m glad you’re here to order the food – your French is better than mine,’ she added.

  The inn consisted of one large low-ceilinged room with black smoke-stained beams but there was a roaring log fire burning in a fireplace at one end; Mae held out her hands to the glow thankfully while Pip spoke to the middle-aged Frenchman behind the small counter that served as a bar.

  ‘I’ve asked for two omelettes, some bread and cheese and two bowls of coffee, if he would be so kind as to provide them. I told him we’ve walked from Boulogne,’ Pip informed her as they settled themselves at a table near the fire. ‘He shook his head and muttered, “Fous! Fous!” He thinks we’re totally mad to walk miles through the snow for just coffee, an omelette and bread and cheese.’

  ‘He hasn’t tasted what we have to eat and drink these days,’ Mae replied, smiling across at the proprietor.

  Pip took her hand. ‘It’s worth it just to be able to spend some time alone with you – well, almost alone,’ he amended. Apart from two ancient farmers sitting in a corner drinking and talking, they appeared to be the only patrons for now.

  Mae nodded. ‘I know, we always seem to be surrounded by people. Not that I mind but it’s nice sometimes to have some privacy.’

  ‘I keep thinking that we should be making some plans for the future but then I wonder …’ Pip began.

  Mae sighed. ‘It’s so
difficult when we just don’t know what the future holds. I suppose that when spring finally arrives the battles will start all over again. Oh, I wish there was an end in sight, Pip, I really do.’

  He squeezed her hand. ‘I know, and so do I. Sometimes I think it would be great if in summer we could sail away to Boston. No war, no hardships, no suffering.’

  ‘I suppose … in reality we … could, Pip. America isn’t at war and I know I’ll never be called on to do anything other than nurse, but …’

  He shook his head. ‘We neither of us can leave, Mae. We can’t escape it, our consciences won’t let us.’

  ‘I know,’ she agreed, although there was a note of wistfulness in her voice. ‘I’m needed and I’ll go on being needed until it’s over.’

  ‘As I will. But, hey, we didn’t come here to depress ourselves. Ah, here’s the coffee,’ he announced, trying to lighten their spirits. He loved her and he desperately wanted to take her back home to a life of peace, comfort and security but he couldn’t – not yet – so these occasional outings would have to suffice until then.

  Mae sniffed appreciatively at the steaming bowl of dark liquid placed in front of her. ‘It smells good but isn’t it a little … strange to have it served in a bowl instead of a cup?’

  He laughed good-naturedly. ‘To us yes but I guess it’s the French way and “when in Rome …”, as the saying goes.’

  They drank the coffee and chatted about Lizzie and Eddie’s blossoming friendship and Lenny’s current dalliance with a young French shop assistant until the food arrived. They both tucked in heartily and Pip declared it was the best omelette he’d ever had.

  ‘We’ll come again, Mae, if you don’t mind the walk,’ he said as he passed over the francs in payment, plus a fair-sized tip.

  ‘It would be a very pleasant walk in spring or summer, Pip,’ she mused as they walked out into the freezing air.

  ‘It would,’ he agreed but wondered if he would still be in Boulogne by then. American public opinion was becoming very hostile to the Kaiser and his forces; anti-German propaganda was increasing, his father had told him in his recent letters, as were the number of merchant ships being attacked by the U-boats. Americans were crossing the border into Canada to enlist to fight in France in what was being termed the American Legion, and President Wilson was becoming more and more unpopular for his policy of non-involvement in a European war. His father felt that the day would come when the President would have to capitulate and declare war – and when that day arrived, Pip knew he would leave the Field Ambulance Service and join the American Army.

  They did return to the little inn in the countryside in early April, just before Easter. Winter had gradually and reluctantly released its Arctic stranglehold but its toll had been heavy and not only amongst the troops, although they had suffered terribly. The cases of frostbite and trench foot had reached such epic proportions that orders were issued to every man serving in the trenches that he was to remove his boots and socks and rub whale oil into his feet at least once a day, but as Alice had stated acidly, what fool was going to take much notice of an order like that in such freezing weather?

  ‘Every officer is to be held responsible to see it’s an order that’s carried out, Nurse McEvoy,’ Sister Harper had replied sharply, although she herself didn’t hold out much hope of it being obeyed so no doubt they’d be treating the results of exposure for weeks to come.

  In February Alice had received a letter from Jimmy telling her that his gran had died and one from her mother informing her that Esther Ziegler, who had always had a weak chest, had succumbed to pneumonia. Harold was heartbroken but winter was always a hard time for the very young, the old and those with delicate constitutions, Maggie had written sadly. It hadn’t improved Alice’s mood, which remained subdued as spring struggled to break through.

  Both Pip and Mae knew possibly before Easter an offensive against the Hindenburg Line at Arras would begin for the British, Canadian and Australian troops, because the bombardment had been going on for twelve days now. When the fighting began they both knew casualties would be heavy so they’d made arrangements to take what would very likely be their last opportunity for a while to spend the afternoon in the countryside at Le Poulet Brun.

  At lunchtime on that April day, as Mae had come off duty, Alice had come rushing into the tent, her cheeks flushed.

  ‘Mae! Have you heard the news? It’s spreading all over the hospital like wildfire!’ she cried, clutching Mae’s arm.

  ‘What? What news?’ Mae had demanded, praying that German U-boats hadn’t sunk another hospital ship. Everyone had been outraged and horrified by the sinking of the Asturias at the end of March; her Red Cross signs had been brightly lit so it must have been a deliberate attack.

  ‘America has declared war on Germany, Mae! Over ninety German ships have been seized in New York harbour! Men are flocking to join up!’

  Mae’s heart had sunk like a stone. She knew she shouldn’t feel so dismayed, but all she could think about was how this would affect Pip. ‘Oh, Alice!’ was all she’d been able to say by way of a reply.

  Now, as they walked hand in hand through the countryside where fresh green shoots and buds were appearing on the trees and the birds sang in the hedgerows, she wished the snow was on the ground again and America’s entry into the war still months away. It had been the first thing he’d said when he’d met her and she could see he was pleased about it.

  ‘I guess you’ll have heard the news, Mae. President Wilson finally gave in. He had to; the vote in the Senate was ninety for and six against and in the House three hundred and seventy-three for, just fifty against. Panama and Cuba have also declared war. Don’t you see, Mae, with fresh troops and munitions the Boche could be pushed back to Berlin by Christmas.’

  She nodded; what he said did make some sense. America’s entry should shorten the war.

  He’d talked about it almost all the way to Le Poulet Brun and she’d listened with an ever-increasing sense of despondency. When they entered the low-beamed room, the proprietor uttered a cry of delight and rushed towards Pip, embracing him as though he were a long-lost son and crying, ‘Vive l’Amérique! Vive l’Amérique! Et bien, monsieur!’

  Pip looked both bemused and embarrassed as the innkeeper led them both to a table and then produced two small glasses of Calvados.

  When toasts had been drunk and their host’s enthusiasm had diminished slightly and he had departed to the kitchen, Mae tentatively asked Pip how the news would affect him. ‘When will you have to leave Boulogne?’

  ‘I’m not exactly sure, Mae. I’ll transfer to an Army unit – when one arrives, that is – but no one seems to have much of an idea when that will be.’

  ‘I know it’s selfish of me, Pip, but I hope it won’t be soon.’

  He smiled and then frowned. ‘I guess it will take some weeks to get the men and equipment organised. I know thousands are rushing to join up but they’re raw recruits, they’ll need training,’ he replied, thinking aloud.

  ‘And ships will be needed to bring them across, a lot of ships,’ Mae added, thinking of the distance involved and the U-boat menace.

  ‘And in the meantime the attack on Arras will go ahead …’

  ‘And we’ll be inundated with wounded,’ she finished.

  He could see she was upset. ‘I know you don’t want me to go to fight, Mae, that’s understandable, but … but I have to. It’s my duty, the way it’s Eddie’s duty.’

  ‘I don’t want you to get hurt, Pip, not like Eddie or Jimmy Mercer or …’ She wouldn’t even voice her fear of him being killed like Harry Mercer and Tommy Mitford.

  ‘I don’t particularly want to get hurt, Mae. Don’t forget I’ve seen at first hand the results of shells and shrapnel, unlike the boys coming over from the States. I know what’s ahead of me. But let’s not talk about it any more, let’s just enjoy this spring afternoon, the food and the apple brandy and hope that the war will be over soon.’

  Mae ma
naged to smile, determined to push all her fears to the back of her mind for now. ‘What is spring like in Boston, Pip?’

  ‘Oh, you’ll just love it, Mae. The sunlight and the sail boats on the Charles River, the Swan Boats on the lake in the Boston Public Garden and then every May there is Lilac Sunday when all the lilac trees in the public parks and the Arnold Arboretum at Harvard are in full bloom and everyone picnics outdoors. The blossoms are gorgeous, every shade from white to purple, and their perfume just fills the air.’

  ‘I’d love to see that, Pip,’ she said wistfully.

  He took her hand and squeezed it. ‘Maybe next year we both will, Mae.’

  Monsieur arrived bearing the food and as Mae cut into the freshly cooked omelette dusted with herbs she tried to think of Boston sunlight and lilacs, not the bombardment close to Arras or the fact that within days men would be dying and maybe within weeks she would have to watch Pip march away to fight.

  To Mae’s profound relief it was June before the first American troops arrived in France. The attack on the German lines at Arras and at Ypres had commenced on Easter Monday in a freak snowstorm and casualties had been as heavy as they had been on the first day of the Somme, so Mae had little time to dwell on the fact that she would one day have to say goodbye to Pip. He was equally busy, as was Eddie, who was toiling through mud with a team of mules and a wagon, struggling to get supplies up to the front line. Eddie had soon realised that the cost to the animals was nearly as heavy as that to the troops as mules and horses plunged and strained to move heavy equipment through quagmires of mud and shell holes, often dropping dead from sheer exhaustion, or breaking legs which meant they had to be shot, or being hit by bullets, shrapnel and shell blasts. Their screams of agony haunted his dreams. But as the weather gradually improved and the offensive continued, the 1st Division of the American Expeditionary Force arrived under the command of General John ‘Black Jack’ Pershing and Mae knew that Pip had little time left with the Field Ambulance Service.

  The day he came to the hospital to say goodbye was one she would never forget. Sister Harper had relented under the circumstances and had allowed her to go to the gate to meet him, and as she crossed the compound and saw him standing there waiting she couldn’t help but think how handsome he looked in his uniform, a uniform so different to those of the men she nursed. She hadn’t realised that he would be an officer, and as the summer sunlight glinted on the buttons and braid on his jacket she felt so very proud of him. He’d already contributed so much to the war effort, his skilful driving had probably saved many lives, but now he was going to fight beside his own countrymen and she was holding back her tears.