by Val Wood
Henry began to weep. Below the bandage covering his eyes, his cheeks were wet. ‘Edie, can I touch your face? I won’t ever see it again. You were so lovely that day, do you remember, outside my parents’ house? And I thought, I thought, that if I survived the war I’d ask if we could meet. I really wanted to. But now what use will I be to anyone? No use at all,’ he said numbly.
‘But you’ve survived, Henry. There are thousands who haven’t, but you’re still here, living and breathing.’ She touched his damp cheek. ‘But if you’re not going to stand up and get on with life, whatever or however it is, then there’ll be no place for you in mine.’
‘Do you mean it?’ he said, reaching for her, his bandaged hands fumbling for her face where with his fingertips he traced her cheekbones and down to her lips. ‘Would I stand a chance, Edie? You wouldn’t be put off if my sight doesn’t return?’
She put her hand gently over his. ‘I wouldn’t be put off, Henry,’ she murmured. ‘I’ll not be your nursemaid, but we could perhaps get through this together?’
He put his head back against the pillow and smiled, though tears still poured down his cheeks. ‘I’ve dreamed of you, Edie. Dreamed of having a life with you. Never really believing but always hoping that it might happen. Do you think that I might kiss you?’
She looked round the ward. The lights were low and there was only one nurse in attendance by the workstation. She leaned towards him and kissed his lips and he gently stroked her face. ‘Not a word to Matron,’ she breathed.
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
Many scientists and expert surgeons had arrived at the war zones since the beginning of the war, when it became known how many injuries were occurring, and had freely given their advice on the use of anaesthetics and surgery including amputation, and both Lucy and Dr Rutherford had been pleased to take their guidance and instruction.
Dr Rutherford had agreed to attend Josh and like Lucy he preferred not to use the guillotine which, though swift and clean, had been discovered on occasion to cut the nerves so severely that the patient was left with paralysing pain in the phantom limb that never went away. Instead they both preferred using surgical knives and saws for amputation and packing the open wound with antiseptic and carbolic until they could be transferred for further treatment.
Dr Rutherford was laying out his equipment and Lucy was cleaning up Josh’s wounds ready for surgery when she suddenly said, ‘Wait! I can feel that there are broken pieces of explosive bullets in the calf and the shin bone, but I wonder – is Dr Thornbury still here with the X-ray machine?’
‘He’s too far gone for that. We must operate now.’
‘The bleeding isn’t as intense as it was. I think we should examine under X-ray and take out what we can find. If we can stem the bleeding further, the surgeon at base can decide whether or not to amputate. Nurse,’ she called. ‘Ah! Staff, will you send someone running to find Dr Oswald Thornbury and ask him to bring the X-ray machine urgently, please, if it’s not in use.’
Milly Thomas sent someone immediately to look for Oswald. Dr Rutherford was not pleased but Lucy insisted. ‘If we find there are too many to remove we’ll amputate, but if there’s the slenderest chance—’
‘We’ll patch him up and send him back to the trenches again, is that what you’re saying?’ Lucy could see that her colleague was angry that his judgement was being questioned.
‘You know it’s not,’ she said brusquely. ‘He won’t be going back with injuries such as this, but two limbs are better than one if we can save it. I’ll bow to the results of the X-ray and then we’ll make an instant decision.’
Oswald arrived within ten minutes; Lucy was getting anxious in case Josh’s condition worsened, but the X-ray revealed that most of the fragments were not too deep and that it would be possible to remove them. There were also some embedded in his right shoulder.
‘Worth a try,’ Oswald agreed when they examined the plates. ‘And it will get him back to base. It’s no fun travelling by lorry or train with severe injuries, and even after amputation soldiers can die.’ Oswald’s face was white. ‘I hate the sight of blood,’ he muttered.
‘Let’s do it then,’ Lucy said firmly. ‘Staff Thomas, you can help. You’ve got small neat hands.’
Dr Rutherford finally, though reluctantly, agreed, and as he constantly checked Josh’s condition Lucy and Milly, armed with fine surgical tweezers and sharp knives, carefully cut into skin and flesh to reveal and remove the fragments beneath.
Edie was able to see Josh once he was back in the recovery ward, where Milly was looking after him. Milly told her what had happened in theatre and said they’d been able to remove all or nearly all the shrapnel. Josh was still under the effect of the anaesthetic but Edie kissed his forehead and knew that he had a fighting chance. She spent an hour sitting by his bed once he was back on the tented ward, and at midnight she, Lucy and Milly went wearily off to bed and asked an orderly to wake them at six the next morning.
In spite of being tired when she’d climbed into bed Lucy didn’t sleep immediately, and when she did, her dreams were jumbled with images of Josh and Oswald and bloody shattered limbs, and she kept calling to Oswald to ask him what he’d said, because there was something she didn’t understand.
When she sat up, startled by the early morning call the following morning, she remembered. ‘The thing is, darling Lucy,’ he’d said. It was a brotherly expression, wasn’t it? Or cousinly, or friendly even. Didn’t Pa say it too sometimes?
On reaching the orderly desk she asked where he was and was told that he and Corporal Morris had returned to Passchendaele and would be back in two or three days.
‘Dr Thornbury appears to be a law unto himself,’ she said to the RAMC orderly who gave her Oswald’s message.
‘That’s what we thought, doctor.’ He shrugged. ‘He’s attached to us but he seems to go wherever he pleases.’
The dream was just a frivolous matter brought on by the events of the gruelling day, and she dismissed it, or thought she had, but throughout the morning his words kept returning, and she was also worried about him. He was tired, she thought; exhausted even. He shouldn’t have gone back to Passchendaele; he wasn’t a soldier and his scientific skills were of no use there. The war wasn’t over. There was still danger ahead.
Josh was doing well though he wasn’t yet out of danger and was unaware of the trauma of decision-making on his behalf. Edie had gone immediately to his bedside as soon as she had come on the ward and was sitting with him before going on duty. When Lucy came in to check on him, Edie stood up.
‘Dr Thornbury,’ she said formally. ‘I’m due for a transfer. I’m going to speak to Matron and tell her I’d like to take it and accompany my brother to the next base hospital and then on to England.’
‘Very well, Sister,’ Lucy replied in the same correct manner. ‘In the circumstances I would do exactly the same. If Sergeant Morris is fit enough to be moved tomorrow, perhaps you’d arrange transport? There’ll be many others going too, so make sure he’s on the list.’
Edie breathed out. ‘Thank you, Lucy. I’ve been awake most of the night thinking of what I’d tell my mother if anything should happen to him, and there’s still no news of our Stanley.’
‘Josh is going to need a lot of care,’ Lucy said softly. ‘You know that as well as anyone, and there’s still the chance that he might lose his leg. I’m going to recommend that he’s transferred to Endell Street hospital when he gets to England if it’s possible. He’ll need more treatment than we can give him here.’
There were many more injured soldiers waiting for treatment and the medical staff had worked through the night on the urgent cases; the station could take five hundred patients and they were almost full and searching for beds. It was imperative that some of the patients were moved as quickly as possible to make room.
Another contingent of doctors and nurses arrived at midday and the staff huts and tents were almost as full as the wards. Edie put Josh on the lis
t for transfer and then went back to find Henry. He too was being transferred, he told her, and seemed to be more stoic over his blindness that he had been.
‘I’m still alive, Edie,’ he said. ‘Did I talk foolishly when I was brought in? I felt desperate, so many of my men killed and thinking that my life was over too until I realized how many had injuries far worse than mine and how many had died.’
She had a sinking feeling that the personal things he had said to her were only uttered in anguish and that he hadn’t meant them, like a man in drink declaring his passion; she’d met a few of those, she thought, and their desires were soon forgotten and not to be taken seriously.
He asked about Josh and she told him that he would be transferred the next day. ‘They’ve tried to save his leg, though he might need further surgery.’
‘He’s got a chance then,’ he said. ‘I’m so relieved. I’m leaving tomorrow too, or so I was told. Do you think he and I could travel together? We’re in the same regiment, after all.’
She said she didn’t know, she didn’t deal with the administration, and he remained silent for a moment, and then clumsily reached out to find and hold her hand.
‘Is there anyone close enough to hear us, Edie?’ he whispered, and she answered that there wasn’t. ‘Because you probably think I was off my head yesterday and talking nonsense, which I undoubtedly was, but what I said about you and me was true. I did – that time back home – and still do want to be with you again. Is that possible? Will you consider it? I loved your smile and your joyfulness and when this dratted war is over …’
She smiled, even though he couldn’t see it, and put a finger to his lips. ‘Ssh,’ she murmured. ‘Yes, I think it’s possible, but let’s give it time, shall we? No promises yet.’
He sat back, and still holding her hand said softly, ‘All right. But I’m happy to think that there are still some good things left in life after all.’
Edie was given permission to be transferred and Milly was too; they had both gone well over their permitted time and both, with other QAIMNS and TFNS staff, were to travel with and take care of the injured personnel by ambulance and rail towards Boulogne. She bade a teary goodbye to Lucy. ‘I’m going to ask for a transfer back to England,’ she said. ‘Before that, I must care for Josh and try to find out where Stanley is. I’ve got a bad feeling about him, Lucy; something’s telling me that all is not well.’
‘I feel for you, my dear friend,’ Lucy said softly. ‘Such a worry. But take care of yourself too. Don’t overwork. You’ve done more than your share.’
Edie hugged her. ‘Listen who’s talking,’ she said. ‘We’ll meet in dear old Blighty before too long, won’t we?’
‘Yes, of course we will,’ Lucy said. ‘You can depend on it.’ But first, she thought as she turned away and went back on duty, I must find Oswald. I have something to tell him.
Lucy was officially called back to the base hospital near Boulogne, the same one she had served at on arrival. She hadn’t been given a date but was expected to be there as soon as possible. She asked the administration officer if she could leave in the next few days, when most of the Passchendaele injuries had been attended to. It was only a lull, she realized; the end of the war was not yet in sight. Troop movement towards Cambrai signalled there were yet more battles to come, and this CCS might be moved nearer to another battlefield.
It was almost a week later that she packed her bag when transport and a driver who was going back to base were allocated to her. No one else was travelling that day. She said goodbye to her colleagues and Dr Rutherford shook her hand.
‘No hard feelings?’ She smiled.
‘None,’ he answered. ‘Let me know how Corporal Morris gets on, will you, if you hear from his sister? I understand she’s a friend of yours.’
‘The very best of friends. I’ve known her and her brothers since we were children.’
‘I wonder – erm, when this damned war is over.’ He paused and gazed at her. ‘Might there be a chance of our meeting up again? I’ll be going back to London.’
‘I very much doubt it, George,’ she hedged. ‘I’ll be going back to my home town.’
‘Which is?’
‘Hull, on the east coast. Kingston upon Hull, to give it its proper name.’
‘Oh.’ He grimaced. ‘Cold and wet.’
‘Sometimes it is,’ she agreed. ‘But we don’t live there for the weather. We live there because of the people. They’re honest and kind, and reliable, and …’ She hesitated, pondering. Do I mean what I’m going to say? ‘I’m probably going to set up a medical practice there.’
‘Really? Are you going to set a trend as the first woman doctor?’ His tone was jocular.
‘Too late for that,’ she replied seriously, realizing by his manner that there was still a hint of lingering prejudice in spite of their having worked side by side. ‘It’s been done already. Dr Mary Murdoch pioneered that role and Dr Louisa Martindale was her assistant. I shall simply follow in their footsteps.’
‘Oh!’ His face gave away the fact that he was astonished. ‘Well, good luck,’ he said. ‘Erm, yes, good luck indeed.’
She went to where an army truck and its driver were waiting for her. The driver turned and they instantly recognized each other. He was the one who had first brought her and Rose to the base hospital. ‘Private Green,’ she said. ‘I remember you.’
‘And I remember you, doctor,’ he grinned. ‘Except that I’m Corporal Green now. I’ve been promoted; driving whilst under fire,’ he said bashfully. ‘I was taking nurses to a CCS when we were fired on by an aircraft.’
‘Goodness! Really?’ she said as he took her bag and helped her up the high step into the lorry. ‘What did you do?’
‘Drove into a wood where the pilot couldn’t see us. It was nothing, but the nurses were terrified and reported back that I’d saved their lives.’
‘Which you did!’ she said approvingly. ‘Well done you. I feel very safe now that I know I’m in such good hands.’
He grinned and started up the engine. ‘Back to base hospital, is it?’
‘Y-yes, but would we have time for a short detour?’ She gazed pleadingly as she spoke. ‘I don’t think it will take long.’ She was guessing, of course; she didn’t know how long it would take.
He raised his eyebrows. ‘I suppose so. Where do you want to go?’
‘Passchendaele,’ she said. ‘I want to catch up with a friend. And send him home.’
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
As they approached Passchendaele there were dozens of army vehicles, gun carriers, ambulances and a slow-moving tank coming towards them.
‘Look at that,’ Green muttered. ‘I’ve not seen one o’ them before. Mark One tank; there aren’t many of them. That lot are all being transferred elsewhere. To another battleground. Just because one battle is over doesn’t mean there isn’t another being planned.’ He turned to her. ‘You say your friend isn’t a soldier? So what’s he doing out here?’
‘He’s a scientist,’ she said. ‘He brought over a mobile X-ray machine, and he volunteers as a stretcher bearer for when the X-ray equipment isn’t needed, which it isn’t during battle, but only afterwards.’
The land around them leading to the village was desolate, looking as if it had been ripped apart by a brutal giant hand. Everywhere they looked were scorched crooked stumps that had once been trees; the pitted earth was black from explosions from ground attack aircraft as well as grenades and machine gun fire, and rutted with deep water-filled tracks from tanks and gun carriers; cavernous open pits were full of muddy water, abandoned enemy guns and broken duckboards. Here too were the remains of trenches and dugouts, blown to pieces by mines and flamethrowers.
Lucy wept, tears running down her face that she didn’t wipe away. She felt as if she could hear the distant resonance of gunfire and the echo of the combatants’ cries. This was where the injured men she had treated had been and in spite of their wounds she had never heard them grumb
le. True, some had called out for their mothers, wives and children, but not once had she heard anyone rail against the madness of sending them out to fight in a war that was not of their making.
Corporal Green pulled off the track to give the convoy room to pass. He was muttering beneath his breath, and finally said, ‘If I hadn’t copped a bullet in my first battle, this is where I’d have been and probably never lived to tell the tale.’
He moved off again and hadn’t gone far when a lorry appeared travelling towards them, being carefully driven over the rutted track. Green lifted his hand in acknowledgement and Lucy glanced at the driver and passenger as they passed, and then shouted, ‘Stop! It’s Oswald. Sound your horn! Can you turn round?’
‘Not without getting bogged down I can’t.’ He sounded his horn, long and loud and they saw the other vehicle slow and then stop.
Lucy began to open the door. ‘Hang on! Where ’you going?’ Corporal Green protested. ‘You’ll get stuck in the mud.’
‘I’ll be careful. If they see me the driver will back up,’ Lucy said.
He went on objecting as she jumped down and he was right, the road was thick with mud and her boots sank into it. ‘Make sure it’s him,’ he said, ‘and then I’ll find somewhere to turn. I gather you don’t want to go any further?’
‘No,’ she said, slamming the door. ‘I don’t.’
She waved her arms above her head, and shouted, ‘Oswald! It’s me.’
The passenger door in the lorry opened and a soldier wearing a peaked hat and a white band on his tunic sleeve jumped down and began to run towards her.
‘Lucy! What on earth!’ Oswald gathered her up in his arms. ‘What are you doing out here?’
‘Looking for you,’ she said tearfully. ‘You disappeared.’
‘I was coming back,’ he said, and cradled her face in his hands. ‘I left a message to say I was coming back.’
‘But you said a few days,’ she insisted, ‘and it’s been over a week. I was worried, and besides,’ she said feebly, ‘I’m being moved back to Boulogne.’
