Evie's War

by Mackenzie, Anna

  Only on reaching the outskirts did it dawn that I might better have reversed direction, the town undoubtedly being the target of the raid. But one’s wits are not altogether at one’s disposal in such circumstances, and the decision was soon taken from my hands. Near the Station I turned into a street that had taken a stick of bombs, buildings split open and spilling their innards onto the road, which was a mess of pot-holes and debris. As I contemplated the merits of a gruelling U-turn, a woman staggered up from the rubble (I have since learned she had been blown from an upper storey) and set up such a cacophony that even my abused ears registered it. There was nothing to be done but help. Stanley was bleeding less freely and in my opinion could stand the wait, so I drove as near as I was able and left the engine running. Several compound fractures were immediately discernable, but Madame would not get into the ambulance without her children — nothing for it but to look for them. Abandoning hope of interpreting her near-hysterical instructions, I worked my way cautiously through the rubble until, at the very back of the house, I found two children, girls of no more than five or six, trapped as much by their own terror as by a large beam fallen across the doorway. I could not get past it but my schoolgirl French stood up to the occasion (Mr Steinbeck would have been proud) and they were convinced to crawl to where I could reach them. The subsequent reunion was spirited. By this time various others had appeared in diverse states of repair. I got the worst cases loaded into the ambulance and set off for No. 5.

  And there it is. Stanley and my wounded civilians were unloaded; an orderly led me inside with the announcement that I was ‘bleeding something frightful’ (the burning across my cheek apparently being a cut). And I no sooner reached the ward than my ‘courage’ abandoned me (the MO, Major Bryant, has told me this is not at all uncommon and should not be seen as in any way diminishing my ‘heroics’). In short, I passed out. And woke to crisp white sheets with a Sister to check my pulse and a nurse to plump my pillows. At which point, if I was truly brave, I should have leapt up and carried on, but did not. Nor did concern for Stanley or my French blessés interrupt: I simply closed my eyes and slept.

  When I woke my head was pounding, my cheek a-fire, and I found myself partially deaf. Orders from Sister are to remain in bed. I do hope Matron has been alerted; it all seems rather too much fuss over a cut.

  Later

  Major B firmly insists on a few days’ rest, after which I shall be ‘returned to Matron’. Still feeling rather dim; shock I am told.

  18 September, No. 2 SH

  Greeted as if I had walked back from the dead. It seems the tale has been rather embroidered and I am deemed a ‘hero’. What tosh, I say! And roll up my sleeves and get on.

  19 September

  Still no sign of my overnight bag. Kate is gone, posted to ‘somewhere near Cambrai’.

  20 September

  Fainted during a round of dressings. I am to take tomorrow off.

  21 September

  Called at No. 5 to see how my French family had fared; all were gone, apparently to relatives in the South. Stanley has been shipped to Blighty; he may lose his eye.

  Sunday 22 September

  Summoned to Matron’s office. She has been ‘keeping an eye’ and thinks I should take a week ‘somewhere well away from things’ as I am ‘less use than I should be if I am not properly recovered’. I argued for a stay of execution and my sentence has been reduced to four days’ leave (Mary-Lee to accompany me to Paris), after which ‘we will reassess’. Also that I have been Mentioned in Dispatches. I believe such things fall to Uncle Aubrey’s department. Won’t he get a surprise!

  23 September, Paris

  Exhausting journey but what a marvellous city! Walked until our feet ached. Now have them up on the railing of our tiny balcony in a most unladylike fashion.

  24 September

  Woke late to discover that Mary-Lee had been out and brought bread and cheese and fruit; she confessed she is under instruction from Matron to ensure I do nothing but eat and sleep and rest. We compromised on regular sustenance and rests at cafés while seeing as many sights as possible. Among these: Notre Dame and the Seine with its many lovely bridges, the Tuileries Garden, Napolean’s Tomb, the Madeleine Chapel and the grand vista of the Champs-Élysées. Paris is a dignified and charming city — I shall have to come back when I am not quite so tired.

  25 September

  Positively refreshing to be away from it all; feel almost normal. When I think back to my expectations, four years ago, of visiting this city (and also Vienna, which I very much doubt I shall now see), it is quite impossible to make sense of it.

  26 September, Abbeville train

  The pages of this book have begun to come loose. I do wish I had not lost my diary. It is the only item I truly regret (though the loss of the silk knickers Winifred gave me is also a blow).

  27 September, No. 2 SH

  Matron has signed me fit for work; I am in Heads.

  28 September

  Further influx, largely bronco-pneumonias. Down to five wards of wounded, all the rest medical.

  30 September

  Several Sisters down with influenza. War news promising; Germans in retreat.

  1 October

  Air raid. I did not distinguish myself; I have not the stomach for it I had before.

  2 October

  Miss Willets sent for me; the worst news. Edmund has been admitted to No. 3: influenza. She says it may be bad.

  Later

  Temperature 103 and delirious. I have cabled Deans Park.

  3 October

  Sat at my brother’s side throughout the night. Sister says there is a new treatment worth trying; we are now giving oxygen.

  4 October

  Edmund holding his own.

  5 October

  Edmund knew me for the first time since his admission. He is very weak. The treatment was developed by a New Zealand nurse, apparently; similar to treatment for gas.

  Sunday 6 October

  Some quite bad cases are beginning to be pulled through. Cautious optimism regarding Edmund.

  7 October

  Loveliest letter from Arthur; he is ‘much concerned for my well-being’ — I had written of the raid, though played down my part.

  8 October

  Sister says those influenza cases who have turned the corner are to be evacuated. I have made an appointment with Matron. My mind is made up: nursing Edmund back to health must be my priority.

  9 October

  Although she can ‘sympathise with my position’, Matron advises that a hasty decision ‘could prove difficult to undo’, and suggests instead that I apply for a transfer to a Home Establishment. She has approved ten days’ leave so that I can see Edmund home to England.

  11 October, Le Havre

  Awaiting embarkation. I wish we were safely over.

  12 October, Portsmouth

  Both Uncle Aubrey and Arthur were waiting to meet us. I was not sure where to look and embarrassed myself completely by dissolving into tears. Uncle Aubrey took charge (thankfully) and I am now in a comfortable Hotel room with the perfect luxury of a bathtub and oodles of hot water while he is gone off to see Edmund is settled and to send telegrams. I am very glad it is all done; I suddenly find myself absolutely exhausted.

  Sunday 13 October

  Edmund is to remain at 5th Southern until judged fit for transfer, when he will go to either Brockenhurst or Hornchurch. Uncle Aubrey must return to London but says he will ‘keep tabs’. He was rather doubtful about Arthur and I being ‘unchaperoned’, until reminded that ‘the young man in question’ was known to my parents, having travelled with us on the Remuera, and had also been approved by no less a personage than Lady Braybrooke. After my uncle’s departure Arthur and I walked along the shore. The sky was dull and the shingle beach rather uninviting. I am grateful for his company, and told him so; he has been a good friend throughout this beastly War.

  14 October

  Edmund’s temperature down
a little. The Channel crossing did not serve him well, but there should now be no check to his recovery. Father and Mother arrived late afternoon; in short order I was dislodged from my brother’s bedside, so took myself off for a walk in the grounds. It is at just such moments that a debilitating lethargy overcomes me. Father says I look rather wan.

  15 October

  Arthur was the unhappy witness to An Outburst: Mother’s reaction quite out of proportion when I said I did not intend returning to Deans Park — though she eventually conceded I must honour my commitments. No doubt fear for Edmund underlies her irritability. Arthur’s view is that my parents are, necessarily, largely ignorant of the essential work I have been engaged in, but that the War has changed irrevocably the situation for women — which of course does not mean the older generation will accept such change easily.

  16 October

  Matron at 5th Southern undertook a ward inspection while I was sitting with Edmund, also taking the opportunity to interrogate me; I am left uncertain as to whether or not she approves. Arthur says she is only wondering how such youthful charm and beauty can go hand in hand with my solid Service Record, at which I laughed aloud. Which apparently is the first time I have laughed since disembarking. Our afternoon excursion took us through a quaint part of town where he pointed out the house where Mr Charles Dickens was born.

  17 October

  Winifred telephoned the Hotel last night to say she would be down today (in which I detect my uncle’s hand). I had worried that it would all be rather awkward with Arthur, but not a bit of it. They are perfectly relaxed.

  Good news regarding Edmund: he is to go to Hornchurch tomorrow. Talked it through with Winifred, but really my decision is made: I have cabled Matron at No. 2 to confirm my resignation, with the intention of offering my services at Hornchurch.

  18 October

  Edmund off at ten, Arthur an hour later. Winifred did not come to the Station; she says I am a goose who cannot see past my own nose.

  Later, Belgravia, London

  Uneventful drive until Winifred took it upon herself to enquire whether I was ‘at all aware that Arthur is quite in love with me’. I assured her it was not so, but rather that we are excellent friends. To which she laughed gaily. ‘Oh, it was always you he preferred, my Dear. But seeing that horse had already bolted, he accepted second runnings.’ Of course I argued otherwise, but she would not hear a word of it.

  19 October

  Uncle Aubrey called to collect me; much talk of the War between he and W’s Colonel. Both are confident the German Advance has been thoroughly quashed, but disagree on how long the ‘mopping up’ will take. I was far too distracted by Winifred’s accusation (for such it feels) to contribute to intelligent conversation. En route Hornchurch my uncle enquired after ‘my young man’; it is all too much! And now our train is delayed, so that we might have sat longer with Edmund. He barely woke through our visit. Sister advised that I should make an appointment with Matron to discuss my enquiry re staffing.

  Later, Deans Park

  Unable to sleep. While I am very fond of Arthur, my feelings are of a different order to those I had for Charles. (To which Winifred’s counter-argument of ‘How do you know if you have not tried?’ creates only additional confusion.) I would be much relieved to lay the matter before someone quietly sensible whom I trust to know me well and who would consider my best interests with an open mind — the identity of just such person highlighting the problem exactly!

  Sunday 20 October

  Endeavoured to write to Arthur but it is all too difficult. Accompanied Eugenie on an inspection of her vegetables instead. Her birthday having been celebrated while I waited with Edmund to cross the Channel, I invited her to choose an item from amongst my mementoes of France. She selected a shell case given me some months ago by a soldier grateful for my care, on which he had engraved the emblem of his Unit, and with that seemed perfectly content!

  Later

  Uncle Aubrey gathered us together to Make an Announcement (giving us to expect something momentous), but it was only to say that I have been Mentioned in Dispatches. Mother beamed, quite as if she had been thoroughly in favour throughout!

  21 October

  Mother and I went to see Edmund, who proved listless though happier ‘amongst others from home’. Made arrangements to see Matron on Wednesday.

  22 October

  Hurrah! My journal has found its way back to me via an extremely circuitous course! It seems that my overnight bag, being discovered in the ambulance, was assumed to belong to one of those Frenchmen or women I had ferried to Hospital, and was thus ‘returned’ to them wherever they had gone. In my mind’s eye, I see the woman I helped giving an ubiquitous Gallic shrug and deciding that God had thus delivered it to her in her hour of need. The wash kit and silk knickers no doubt proved of considerable use and I do not begrudge her them one jot, but, oh, I am grateful that she found a way to return my journal! It had been packaged up with the novel Kate lent me (her name being recorded on the flyleaf) and posted to her care of ‘Les infirmières britanniques’. Some combination of bureaucracy and luck saw the package reach her, whereupon she sent the diary on. I have written at length expressing my thanks, and now intend copying in the intervening pages. The whole episode makes one think about the value of recording one’s experiences. Although they will live forever in my memory, it is by these words that I honour each life passed through my hands.

  23 October

  Miss Anderson proved very no-nonsense and confirmed staffing shortages. All paperwork being straightforward, I am to begin a week’s trial at Grey Towers on Monday; I passed on Miss Willets’ letter of commendation and details by way of reference.

  24 October

  Had expected a fuss but in the event Mother was perfectly sanguine. I do believe she has come to approve of my work. Father says that he is sure our New Zealand Boys will appreciate my efforts, and one more than most.

  25 October

  A cable from Miss Willets at No. 2. Apparently I am to receive the Croix de Guerre.

  26 October

  Received a letter from Arthur enquiring after Edmund and myself. I feel rather guilty to have neglected him, but the disquiet Winifred has sown makes it all rather awkward — though of all that he is, of course, blithely unaware.

  Sunday 27 October

  Vicar made mention — altogether too embarrassing. Several local ladies who did not wish to be taught bandaging by a Colonial have quite changed their tune.

  Later, Grey Towers

  Uncle Aubrey and I caught the same train, and he insisted on seeing me settled. The Nurses’ Home is very pleasant (a positive change from tents and huts) and I am treated with every consideration. Word has, I think, preceded me. I hope I will not have to sing for my supper.

  28 October

  Put to work right away, Amputees ward; duties fairly light in comparison. Near enough to Edmund to pop in twice a day, whence he takes great pride in introducing me to all comers, with frequent mention of the Croix de Guerre. Have asked him to desist.

  29 October

  Grey Towers is an impressive establishment; 2,500 beds plus Surgical Unit and Post-operative care of the most up-to-date kind. Clerical and farming training and arts and crafts also offered. Boys in my ward largely positive, though a few are still taking it rather hard, mainly those very recently wounded or very young.

  30 October

  Father is down to see Edmund and has offered to take me to tea.

  31 October

  Matron sent for me, having heard from Devonshire House and No. 2: ‘All is in order.’ She congratulated me on my decoration (which Miss Willets had mentioned). I sent a note to Arthur advising that my position is confirmed, and apologising for my tardiness in writing, with a promise that I shall endeavour to do better now that things are settled.