by Val Wood
An orderly stood there, a Red Cross band on his arm. ‘Dr Mason? Sorry to disturb you, ma’am.’
‘Thornbury,’ she said huskily. ‘I’m Dr Thornbury. Sorry, I was fast asleep.’
‘That’s all right, ma’am. It’s very early, but Major Dobson requests that you and Dr Mason kindly meet him in the refectory in half an hour. We’re expecting a big influx of injured men within the next few hours and he wants to discuss procedure.’
‘Of course.’ She cleared her throat. ‘We’ll be down immediately.’ Behind him she saw nurses scurrying up and down the stairs, coming off or going on duty, some of those going down still pinning on their caps. ‘Thank you.’
‘What is it?’ Rose was sitting up, leaning on her elbow. ‘Is it an emergency?’
‘Yes,’ Lucy said throatily. ‘It is. Or it will be.’ She went to the window and drew back the curtains; for a second she was confused. It wasn’t night, was it? It wasn’t the sunset that she could see? No, it was the dawn, but a dawn such as she had never seen before, with vivid red streaks and black smoke-filled clouds above the layer of lightening sky. Was that the noise she had heard in her dream, which was now rapidly dissolving? Had she heard explosions of gunfire and not of a train coming off its tracks?
They hurriedly dressed and went downstairs, joining the throng of nurses queuing up for breakfast. An orderly came towards them. ‘Good morning,’ he said. ‘Dr Mason and Dr Thornbury?’ When they said they were, he asked them to follow him to a table at the side, next to one where Major Dobson and the lieutenant who had shown them in were having breakfast.
They both stood up as they approached, standing until Lucy and Rose were seated.
‘I hope you slept well?’ the major asked. ‘There’ll be a busy day in front of us. The coffee is excellent, by the way,’ he said, as the orderly waited for them to choose an option for breakfast.
‘I heard gunfire,’ Lucy said, choosing coffee, boiled eggs and bread and butter. ‘Has there been a big battle?’
‘I’m afraid so,’ he said. ‘Jackson here received the news early in the morning and came to wake me, but I was already awake and dressed. Blighters didn’t even wait until dawn before setting off their artillery.’
‘But you won’t know yet how many injured will be arriving, will you?’ Rose asked.
‘No,’ he replied, taking a sip of coffee. ‘We don’t, and we’ll probably get some from the CCS who are being moved out to make room. You’ll know about the triage system, I expect?’
‘We do,’ Rose said. ‘We used a similar practice at Endell Street.’
The major went on to say they would expect to receive the injured from the second group and as they were speaking other doctors arrived for breakfast. Major Dobson introduced Dr Mason as their new senior surgeon and Dr Thornbury as her assistant, to replace Dr Staples and Dr Howard. Lucy counted ten including Rose and herself and two others were women, one of whom Rose had clearly met before. Four women, six men, not a bad mix of male and female, she thought. I hope we all get on. She had never worked with male doctors before and she saw a couple of the younger ones eyeing her curiously.
‘I’d like to make some changes, unless Major Dobson has any objection,’ Rose said when she had finished her meal, addressing those sitting at the two adjacent tables. ‘Could we meet after Dr Thornbury and I have had a proper look at the theatre and before any casualties arrive? I won’t keep anyone from their duties longer than necessary, and it will be an opportunity for you to make any suggestions for improvements that you think might be useful. Shall we say twenty minutes? Unless anyone is going off duty, and then we can speak later if you wish.’ Twenty minutes would allow them to eat breakfast but without too much chat. She turned to Major Dobson. ‘I’d also like to meet Matron and the senior nursing staff,’ she said. ‘A good hospital can’t run without them.’
She thought that he looked a little put out, so she added, ‘I’m quite sure that it runs well already, major, but I need to be guided by what you have already put in place.’
Lucy saw a few raised eyebrows, mainly among the young male doctors, and a wry smile and a twinkle in the eyes of the two women. Two of the men said they were about to go off duty but would stay behind to hear what she had to say.
The major came with them to the theatre. ‘What was it that you didn’t like in the theatre?’ he asked.
‘Oh, no, please don’t misunderstand me,’ Rose said quickly. ‘It’s just that when we looked through the window yesterday we saw that the surgeon and his assistant were working at one operating table and I wondered why there wasn’t a senior nurse assisting so that Dr Howard could be dealing with other patients, either on the wards or, if necessary, on the other table.’
‘Ah, well, yes, I see. Dr Staples liked to have the theatre to himself when operating. Dr Howard was perfectly capable of carrying out other surgical tasks, but Dr Staples insisted he helped him.’
‘Which meant that another patient had to wait longer than he needed to.’
‘I’m afraid so. I’d be quite happy for you to change that arrangement.’ Major Dobson looked at them both with a degree of relief written on his rather florid features.
‘Well, then,’ Rose said, ‘if you would kindly send me two orderlies to move the tables and the gas canisters, what I suggest is that I use one table for amputations or other serious injuries, and Dr Thornbury has the other, to either stitch up surgical wounds or limbs that have sustained amputation, or to attend other injuries such as broken limbs that need resetting, or burns that require dressing. I’ll need a large lined limb basket and a table to contain the knives, saws, swabs and antiseptic.’
Lucy could tell that Rose was in her professional element. What she was saying made perfect sense.
‘To assist us we will need either a doctor or a senior nurse,’ Rose continued. ‘I will speak to them, which is why I asked to meet the senior nurses. We only want those who understand surgical procedure; this way, I feel sure we can move more swiftly and see more patients.’
Major Dobson positively beamed at her. ‘Excellent,’ he said. ‘I’ll send two orderlies right away.’
‘And two people to scrub everything within an inch of its life, if you please, major,’ she called after him as he headed for the door. ‘So I hope you have plenty of carbolic soap and antiseptic!’
He simply lifted a hand as he went out of the door, and Lucy laughed. ‘There’s one very relieved administrator,’ she said. ‘I believe he thought you were going to upset his whole system.’
‘It’s a perfectly good system he’s running,’ Rose acknowledged. ‘It was the previous surgeon who didn’t want anyone else in the theatre with him, or at least not anyone who knew as much or more than he did, that was the difficulty; and he relegated the women to the wards, you notice. It shouldn’t have been about him and his self-esteem; what it’s about is getting these injured men attended to as fast as possible in order to give them another chance in life.’ She gazed at Lucy. ‘Do you understand what I mean, Dr Thornbury?’
‘Yes, Dr Mason,’ Lucy responded; she knew perfectly well that Rose’s prime purpose was to attend her patients as quickly and efficiently as possible. ‘I understand exactly what you mean.’
Rose had other measures in mind. Whilst the theatre was being cleaned and rearranged to her satisfaction, she spoke to the other doctors in the refectory, asking who was able to assist at surgery. There were several, including Dr Dorothy Lawson, whom she had met many years ago, and Dr George Rutherford, who said he had been very disappointed to be demoted, as he put it, to ward doctor by Dr Staples when he was well trained in theatre procedures.
‘Well, in that case,’ Rose said, ‘if you will assist me with the first surgery, then providing everything goes well I’ll appoint you as the second in seniority, assisted by Dr Lawson when you’re on duty. We’ll ask Major Dobson to have a duty rota implemented. Dr Thornbury will be senior assistant attended by a senior nurse once I have found someone suitable.�
�
If Lucy was disappointed not to be the first to assist Rose she didn’t show it; there would be plenty of opportunities for that, she was certain.
‘The other thing I would like to do,’ Rose went on, ‘if Matron and the major have no objections, is to move the fever ward outside to one of the hospital tents. Those with trench fever and those with venereal disease should be kept separate if they’re not already, and being outside in the tents with plenty of blankets will not harm them in the least, and the same nurses can go with them. I realize how a sense of trust is built up between patients and staff.’
She looked around to see if she had everyone’s attention, and she had: Rose in full flow was very compelling. ‘Those coming in from the CCS with fresh injuries can go straight to the inside ward, once it has been scrubbed out from top to bottom, so that they can be assessed. I trust they will feel safer inside after the trauma they have been through on the battlefields. Any patients who are waiting inside to go back to England for further treatment, or to convalesce, can also be transferred to a separate outside ward, well away from the fever ward. Dr Thornbury, perhaps you will inform Major Dobson of these requirements and ask if they could be implemented immediately, before the newly injured arrive?’
Everyone, apart from those going off duty, was galvanized into action. Rose went off to find Matron to gain permission to interview the sisters and staff nurses and find those with strong stomachs to help in surgery. As she expected, there were many who were able; these she asked to give their names to Major Dobson or his assistant to add to the duty rota.
Lucy talked to Major Dobson and found that he was satisfied with the proposed changes, and pleased to think that the injured would be seen much faster than previously. She had also asked for more aprons and gloves to be left in theatre and a separate basket for the used apparel. She enquired about laundry facilities and the major was pleased to tell her that they had excellent amenities run by the RAMC.
She went into the refectory to find Rose to tell her that everything was in hand, but she wasn’t there, so she walked towards the front door to take another look at the tented wards. She introduced herself to a ward nurse who walked with her alongside the patients, who were lying in hospital beds as pristine as any in a normal hospital. Only the slight flapping of the canvas gave away the fact that it wasn’t.
‘Some of these patients are waiting to be taken to surgery,’ she told Lucy. ‘Their injuries are not considered to be urgent or life-threatening; they’re mostly broken limbs waiting to be set, or head injuries, but painful nevertheless. When they have been attended to they can be sent back to England to convalesce. We’re so pleased that you are here. We’ve been very short of surgeons.’
We should see them as quickly as possible, Lucy thought. They’re holding up beds that could be used for more urgent cases, and I’m sure they’d like to be sent back to England. I’ll speak to Rose about it.
Rose had come to the same conclusion and had called for an urgent meeting in an hour with all the doctors, the senior nurses and Major Dobson. ‘The theatre is ready for use,’ she said. ‘That is the quickest turnaround that I have ever seen. Congratulations, major.’ She gave him a quick approving smile. ‘What I suggest is that we have a light lunch now and then all those attending surgery should scrub up. Major Dobson has arranged for the patients to be swapped over immediately, the head injuries and broken limbs to be brought into the anteroom ready to be sedated and attended to. After treatment they’ll be taken to a new ward that is being assembled as we speak.’
She turned to the major for confirmation, and when he nodded she said, ‘Come along then. Let’s do what we are here for.’
She’s so passionate, Lucy thought, and looked at the other medical staff; they too seemed energized and uplifted. This was what they had been trained for; they had come to treat the sick and injured. She thought of all the years of examination and study that they had had to undergo to reach the level of expertise and qualification that had eventually brought them to this foreign land, and they were ready and eager.
When they emerged from theatre and the surgical wards, having attended to most of the waiting patients who were now sleeping comfortably in their fresh beds in the new marquee, it was well into the afternoon. Lucy stood on the steps of the chateau and felt a great degree of satisfaction; she had cleaned up the head injuries, removed pieces of shrapnel from arms, chest and backs, asked the staff nurse to bathe and bandage sore, reddened, dust-filled eyes and assisted Dr Lawson to tranquillize patients in order to reset broken legs, arms and ankles.
She had done all of this before at Endell Street, but never with such a sense of urgency as she had felt here in the midst of war. She had brought a cup of coffee out with her so that she could clear her mind and thoughts, and as she sipped she gazed beyond the lines of white tents towards the long drive and the bridge that they had crossed only the previous day. Her eyes suddenly widened. A long cavalcade of horse-drawn wagons, followed by several motorized military vehicles, was crossing the bridge.
The newly injured; she put her hand to her mouth. They’re here! She took a deep breath. And we’re ready.
CHAPTER FORTY
Since the first bombs on an unprepared Hull that had pulled Nora, William and Eleanor from their beds and out into the streets, and another unexpected raid early in 1916 when much damage was done and many citizens were killed and injured, the furious inhabitants quite rightly complained, with the result that within a matter of weeks a contingent of civil defence personnel arrived to put in place anti-aircraft guns and powerful searchlights.
In April the city was visited again but this time it was ready and waiting, with the Big Lizzie warning buzzer blaring and guns set. The Zeppelin was caught in the searchlights and hit, dropping thousands of feet and releasing only one bomb, which caused devastation among buildings but no fatalities, before it moved off over the Humber and out to sea. Everyone breathed a sigh of relief; perhaps now that Germany had been given a warning there would be no more bombings.
But that uneasy peace didn’t last very long and another aircraft crept in again during the darkened hours before an early dawn, returning from a mission raid elsewhere and spitting out its remaining cargo on outlying roads, railway lines and buildings, causing death and destruction and terrifying the vulnerable inhabitants.
‘Whatever can we do?’ Nora complained as they sat down for supper. ‘There’s nowhere to shelter. I’ve heard that some people are spending nights out in the fields outside the city because they don’t feel safe within it.’
‘I’ve heard that too,’ William said. ‘We’ve also had more customers coming into the bank and drawing out their savings in case the bank is hit and they can’t access their money. They’d always get it back, of course, but perhaps not immediately!’
Nora looked at him in dismay. ‘Oh, my word! Perhaps we should think of going to Pearson Park after all?’
William sighed. ‘We might give it some consideration, I think. We could put in extra security for this house and not tell anyone what we’re doing, because there have been vandals entering empty property; perhaps leave a light on overnight, as long as it doesn’t show outside; and buy camping beds and spend the nights at the park house. At least you’ll never be late for work, Eleanor,’ he said, in the vain hope of lifting their spirits.
‘If we had a dog, Sally and I would feel perfectly safe to be left on our own,’ Eleanor suggested, ‘and maybe Mary and Daisy would stay too sometimes. We could share a bedroom; we wouldn’t mind.’
‘We’ll see about the dog,’ Nora said vaguely. ‘It’s just something else to think about. And Mary won’t want to stay; she has a husband, don’t forget.’
Eleanor went up to bed just after nine as she always did, as she had an early morning start. William turned to Nora. ‘So what’s worrying you, m’dear? Are you thinking about Oswald?’
‘I am, as a matter of fact,’ she said in a low voice. ‘We haven’t had a letter
for a month, nor a telephone call.’
She had been pleased when William had had the telephone installed but now she worried when she didn’t hear from Oswald or Lucy, and although William frequently pointed out that very few places would have private telephones they could use, it didn’t lessen her anxiety.
‘He said he’d be moving off at a minute’s notice, didn’t he? He’ll be in touch when he reaches a base, I expect. Remember, he might be at a military training camp without access to a telephone.’
‘Or even pen and paper,’ she said ironically. But he had no answer to that.
Oswald had been waiting for his orders to leave for France for months and was growing increasingly impatient, even though he was heavily involved in important scientific work. The eminent scientist John Haldane, having reached an agreement with Lord Kitchener over the type of respirator needed to keep the troops safe during a gas attack, had been overruled by the First Lord of the Admiralty, Winston Churchill, who had had previous experience of another type of mask used by the Navy which in the scientist’s opinion was useless and gave no protection whatsoever. Now the race was on to invent a more efficient mask and to discover the root and effects of the different types of lethal gases.
Oswald had been moved several times to various laboratories in the London area and was now preparing for the transport of the mobile X-ray machine, therefore assuming that his posting to France or Flanders was imminent. He wrote another letter home, reflecting that he hadn’t received one from his mother or William for a few weeks, even though he had written to them; he’d placed the last one on the desk of one of his colleagues asking him to post it for him with other laboratory letters as he had to rush to catch a train. There was never time to find an office telephone that wasn’t in use.
In the letter he told them that his journey might be imminent, and asked them if they’d heard from Lucy. He wanted her address urgently, if they knew it. No one seems to know the whereabouts of anyone, he wrote. Life is in a state of flux.
