Chapter 8
Aught Victor Be
ANZAC Battlefield Hospital on the Somme – Early August, 1916
Alastair struggled to open his eyes, a sound somehow dragging him up from the depths.
“Alastair!” the voice said, “Alastair! It’s me – Margaret! Wake up!”
Forcing his eyes open, he whispered, “Margaret, is that ye?”
“Yes, Alastair. How do you feel?”
“Loosy,” was all he could conjure up to say.
“You just rest easy,” she responded empathetically, “I shall inform Elizabeth that you’re here. I know how much you will be wanting to see her.”
“Thenk ye,” he whispered, subsequently drifting off to sleep.
The Following Day
Alastair opened his eyes, his memory still clouded. He had been dreaming – a beautiful red haired nymph dancing naked before him in the firelight. Momentarily wishing he hadn’t awakened, he attempted to recapture such a lovely dream, but it was just that – a dream. The world had spun wildly out of control since that night two years earlier. Such dreams no longer seemed even possible. Too much death, too much misery - it was all far too sickening.
His vision now coming into focus, he pondered for a moment and thought to himself, “Hold oon, mayhap tis still a dream – a dream within a dream. Fur there she is, the beautiful red-haired nymph, gazin’ back oon me.”
Tugging his hands to his eyes, he attempted to rub the cobwebs away, but before he could manage it the dream whispered, “Alastair, wake up. Alastair!”
“Och, aye?” he whispered in return. “Is that ye, Elizabeth?”
“Yes, Alastair, tis me.”
“Am Ah dreamin’, Elizabeth, oor am Ah in heaven?”
“I should hope not, Alastair. You’re alive. And you’re not dreaming. You’re here in the hospital. Do you remember anything at all?”
“Aye, Ah remember,” he responded drowsily, “Wait a minute! Hoo is it ye are here?”
“I’m a nurse. I enlisted two years ago. I’ve been a military nurse ever since three months after you left Edinburgh.”
“Och, aye, soo ye’re a nurse, is it?” he whispered.
“Right, and lucky for you, for I’m right here to help.”
“Reit. Even better’n a dream, Ah’d say.”
“So, what happened to you, Alastair?”
“We were gassed, tear gas, and Ah hadn’t time tae locate my gas mask, soo Ah was tearin’ across the trenches in search of one, when Ah took a bullet in my arm – that’s whit happened.” Then he tried to raise himself up on his one good arm, but he was yet too weak. Instead, he asked blearily, “Hoo long have Ah been here, in the hospital?”
“Two days,” she replied.
“Am Ah goin’ tae die?” he blubbered disinterestedly.
“I’m afraid so, Alastair. Infection has set in. The doctor says it will take a few days, but it appears that you are not long for this world.”
“Och, weel, Ah’ll get through it alreit, Ah suppose. The Laird knows, Ah’ve gain through far worse these two years. In a way, Ah suppose it’ll be a relief, Elizabeth.”
Tears by now streaming down her face, Elizabeth reached for his hand and cooed softly, “You needn’t worry, Alastair. I shall stay with you. I shall be with you at the end, I promise. I shall be here to comfort you.”
“That’s stoatin ay ye, Elizabeth. Then, Ah’ll just float oop tae the stars, dreamin’ all the time ay ye, that night up on Arthur’s Seat, decked oot in nothin’ more’n a sporran or two.”
“I’m afraid you will be dreaming of Margaret, Alastair,” she contradicted.
“Whit? That weren’t ye, Miss Elizabeth?”
“No, it was Margaret, I’m afraid.”
“Och, and me thinkin’ all these years it were ye! Ye were such the hot-blooded one ay the two. What happened that night?”
“What do you mean?”
“Ah’ve wondered ever since, hoo did it come tae pass, Elizabeth. Hoo was it Margaret came tae we lads decked oot that way?”
“Oh, it was my idea. I had every intention of giving you boys an eyeful. I even took my blouse off but, while putting on the sporrans, I discovered I was much too embarrassed. So I simply couldn’t go through with it. Margaret was horrified at first, thinking I’d lost my mind. I was really concerned for you boys, going off to war without any experience of the fairer sex, but I was too hemmed in by my own prudish upbringing.”
“So hoo was it Margaret came tae do it?”
“Oh, God, I admire her so much for what she did. She thought I was crazy, but then, when I started to prevaricate, she realized that there were by then expectations, that you boys had been led on by us. And she, too, felt that you were deserving of something before going off to war. So she devised the idea of doing it incognito, so that no one would ever know which one of us actually did it. Then, we drew straws, and she lost, or perhaps she won, depending on how you look at it. At the time, I certainly thought that she had lost, but now, in retrospect, I think that perhaps she won. She certainly gave each of you a special memory, one that you shall remember for the rest of your lives.”
“Och, Ah kin,” he replied. “They’re all dead, ye kin.”
“Yes, all but you, Alastair.”
“And Robert,” he interjected knowingly
“He very nearly died, too, but he’s convalescing in Paris at the moment.”
“Oh? Ah hadn’t haird,” he rejoined. “Soo he’s alreit then?”
“Yes, he shall make a complete recovery, I expect,” she confirmed.
“And whit of Margaret?”
“Oh, she’s dead, too,” she announced sadly, “Killed by an artillery shell yesterday.”
“My goodness!” he exclaimed in shock, “Poor Margaret…Ah shall grieve for her moost ay all. Weel, Tis good that Robert still lives, fur Ah’m next,” he observed dispassionately.
“So it seems, so it seems…” she whispered mournfully.
He gazed at her for a moment and, his eyes fluttering, he then drifted off to sleep.
Two Days Later
Grasping his hand sympathetically, Elizabeth inquired, “How is he, Dr. Stonewell?”
“It won’t be too much longer now, Nurse Turnberry. I expect he’ll be gone by morning. I’m going to have to move along now. You will stay with him, I trust?”
“Yes, sir, I promised him that I would. After all, he is a dear friend.”
“Yes, I understand. You’re quite a caring young lady, you know,” he observed, and with that, he stood and trudged off on his rounds.
The room subsequently became deathly still, the remaining soldiers housed within the room beyond cognitive awareness. Elizabeth simply awaited the end patiently, hoping against hope for one last opportunity to converse with her charge.
An hour passed, and then two, but near midnight, his eyes fluttered, and he drifted into consciousness, murmuring, “Och, aye, Tis ye, the red-haired nymph ay my dreams. Whit say, Elizabeth?”
“I’m still here, Alastair, man of my dreams,” she whispered serenely. “How do you feel?”
“Like Ah’m floatin’. Ah dinnae feel much a’tall, tae tell ye the truth.”
“Can you see me, Alastair? Can you see at all?” she queried.
“Aye, Ah see ye fine, lovely lass.”
“Good, because I’ve a small surprise for you.”
“Whit might that be?”
“I’m going to let you see what I should’ve shown you two years ago.”
“Och, and whit might that be?”
“The curve of a woman,” she replied, and with that she slowly lowered her nurse’s gown and the chemise beneath, thereby exposing her breasts.
Silently studying her nakedness, Alastair whispered, “You wouldnae be doin’ this if’n Ah wasnae at death’s door, Ah’ll wager.”
“That isn’t true at all,” she rejoined wistfully, “I’ve been thinking about th
is ever since that night. I should have joined Margaret then. I was too embarrassed. But it shouldn’t have mattered, I know that now. I should’ve done it then. And I’ve been hoping to get the chance ever since. So this is for me, as much as it is for you, Alastair. And if you decide not to die tonight, that’ll be just fine with me, because I don’t want you to die. You see, I need you. I need you to live. So take a good long look, you crazy Scot, and wake up in the morning.”
“Och, aye, seems like a plan tae me, lass,” he responded gaily, “And might Ah have jist one more gift from ye, lovely Elizabeth?”
Prepared by this point for anything at all, she inquired, “And what might that be?”
“Might ye be givin’ me a nice fondle ay those soft-lookin’ melons. Ah’ve nae had the pleasure in my life, and quite frankly, they appear tae be the real mince.”
“Why didn’t I think of that?” she posited, “Of course, you may. Here, try one in each hand,” and as he did her bidding, she added, “There now, softly, that’s right. Just so.”
After he had sampled the displayed gifts just the right amount, she drew back, pulled her chemise up and, tugging her nurse’s gown about her, she re-buttoned it. And through it all, Alastair studied her every move with evident adoration.
Her display having now concluded, he confessed, “Och, Ah’m ever so grateful, Elizabeth. Ye know Ah always had the twinge fur ye. Had things nae worked oot sich, Ah had every intention ay asking fur yer hand when the war ended. But if’n ye ask me, this way works oot almost as weel. Tonight Ah’ll be with the angels, and Ah’ll spend the rest ay eternity with these few moments inside ay me. Soo Ah’ll be thankin’ ye ever soo much, lovely Elizabeth.”
“You’re welcome, Alastair, you lovely man, and know that I would have said yes.”
At this, his eyes fluttering once again, he drifted into unconsciousness.
The Following Morning
Tugging at Elizabeth’s shoulder, the doctor exclaimed, “Wake up, Nurse Turnberry.”
Lurching awake in embarrassment, she responded, “Sorry, doctor, I must have fallen asleep.” And then turning toward her patient, she queried, “Is he gone yet?”
“Actually, no!” he exclaimed, “Quite the opposite, in fact. I believe that his condition has improved markedly. I don’t know what potion you plied him with last night, but he is in fact so much improved that I believe he might actually survive.”
Tugging at her nurse’s gown self-consciously, she announced, “Oh, my, that is indeed excellent news,”
At that moment Alastair’s eyes fluttered yet again and, drifting awake, he mumbled to himself, “Och, here Ah am Laird, yer servant, ready fur the takin’. But please, bestow upon me the mercy ay allowin’ me tae keep my private memories tae meself.” He then opened his eyes full wide and, observing the pair before him, he complained, “What’s thes? Ah’ve been tricked! There Ah was, all filled with bliss at my own demise, and ye two drag me back tae thes hellhole ay a loosy warld! Whit a load of jobby!” And at this rather bizarre soliloquy, he bestowed upon them an absurdly radiant smile.
“My, my,” the doctor proffered, “It seems that you are not going to have the luxury of departing this world so soon after all, soldier. So get used to it being ‘loosy’!” And he actually snickered, not at his own joke, but at the rarity of such an event in a world wherein the value of a single human life had become essentially insignificant.
The miraculous moment having too rapidly fleeted, the doctor now announced distractedly, “Well, I must be on my way – other wounds to tend to, and all that,” and with that said, he departed the room.
Observing the receding figure, Alastair exclaimed woozily, “Soo, Ah’m thinkin’ we moost have a celebration. Elizabeth, could ye be handin’ me my bagpipe?”
Reaching beneath his bunk for the requisite item, she responded pleasantly, “Of course.”
Taking it within his hands, he felt about, then grumbled in consternation, “Weel, perhaps not then.”
“What? Why?” she murmured.
“Och, it seems my stash has escaped me clutches.”
“Oh? What was in it?”
“Nae too much, lass, jist my haggis, and me wireless telegraph.”
“My, that is not good.”
“Weel, not tae worry. We’ll find some oother way tae celebrate my stoatin’ recovery.”
“Just you leave it to me, Alastair. I’ll locate some haggis – the perfect device for a celebration.”
“Och, nae, lass. Jist the sight of yer brammer face be celebration enough fur the likes ay me. Besides, Ah’ve seen the gates of heaven last night, if’n Ah wasn’t dreamin’.”
At this, Elizabeth giggled and, awarding him a peck on the lips, she whispered, “You weren’t dreaming, lad, and there’s more where that came from. Just you get better!”
Three days later Private Alastair Stewart was transported to a hospital in Paris, where he eventually made a full recovery.
Paris Military Hospital - Two Weeks Later
Alastair lay in bed, wistfully recalling the joy of his last encounter with Elizabeth. At the far end of the ward, an officer came forward in his general direction.
Approaching his hospital bed, the officer asked, “Private Stewart?”
“Yes, sir, that Ah am. What might Ah be doin’ fur ye, sir?”
“I am Major Thomas, British Military Police. One of the soldiers who died yesterday gave an account on his deathbed. He claimed that you told him about a nurse, by the name of Cranberry, or some such name. He insisted that you told him she showed off her goods to you a few days back, up at a field hospital somewhere on the front lines. Is that so?”
“Weel, er, aye sir. Why? Is the lass in some sort ay trouble?”
“I’m afraid so, private. I will need to take your deposition. She will be bound over for a court-martial hearing. These days, life is cheap in this army. She may just find herself before a firing squad.”
“Och, my Laird! Hoo can that be? All she did was show me her breasts, and brammer breasts they were. Ah’ll tell ye that fur certain!”
“Private, the Allied commanders are in unanimous agreement that such fraternization is contributing materially to the demoralization of the army. I shall therefore require your signed deposition. Are you up to it, soldier?”
“Och aye, sir.”
“Now, you have one hour to write down on paper everything that transpired between this nurse - what was her name - and you.”
“Aye, sir – the lass’s name was Margaret, Margaret MacCreedy.”
“MacCreedy. I thought it was something like Cranberry. And she had flaming red hair, according to the soldier who died.”
“Tis reit, sir, she does indeed have flamin’ red hair, but her name is MacCreedy.”
“Alright, soldier. Write it all down on this piece of paper. I’ll be waiting right over there for your deposition. So get to it.”
“Damn!” he thought to himself, “Ah never should have told that dyin’ boy about whit Elizabeth did that night. Ah was oonly tryin’ tae give him a nice sendoff. Now Ah’ve a stoatin mess oon my hands. But the good Laird willin’ they’ll blame Margaret, who is lucky, because she’s already dead.”
ANZAC Battlefield Hospital on the Somme - The Following Day
Elizabeth walked purposefully into the hospital ward, announcing, “Margaret, I’ve just received orders. I’m being transferred to the British Army. It seems, they are in desperate need of more nurses, and the ANZAC’s apparently have plenty at this time. I’m to be packed up and ready to go in two hours’ time.”
“My goodness, that is quite impossible to believe. We’ve been together for more than two years now,” Margaret replied.
“I know, but I suppose there’s nothing that can be done about it. This war is resulting in far more difficult hardships than friends being separated. So I’m afraid I’m going to have to grow up and take care of myself, although I have y
et to consider exactly how I shall accomplish that!” At this self-deprecating remark, Elizabeth grinned forlornly at Margaret and suggested, “We shall meet again, Margaret. I just know it. Please – write to me!” And at this, she broke into sobs, the pair hugging desperately.
A short time later Elizabeth was transported to the British lines.
Two Weeks Later
Marveling at the setting, Robert stepped down from the transport vehicle. He had convalesced in Paris for two months, but little had changed here at the hospital on the front lines. His shoulder still gave him fits, but he had felt it was time to get about. Having nowhere else to go until he was declared fit for duty, he had decided to visit Elizabeth and Margaret.
Noticing a doctor coming towards him, he said, “Pardon me, doctor. I am Captain Sutherland. I’m searching for two acquaintances of mine, Nurses Turnberry and MacCreedy. Might you be able to direct me to either one of them?”
“Yes, I’m Doctor Stonewell. Ah, two excellent nurses, if I do say so myself, Captain…er, what did you say your name is?”
“Sutherland.”
“Ah, yes, I believe I heard both of them speak of you at one time or another. A close friend, I suppose then.”
“Yes, more than I can begin to say, Doctor.”
“In that case, I have rather bad news for you.”
“What! What’s happened, Doctor?”
“First, Nurse Turnberry was shipped off to the British lines. They claimed to need her more than the ANZAC’s.”
“Oh, my, that IS bad news. Just exactly when was that?”
“Two weeks ago.”
“What about Nurse MacCreedy?”
“I say, I’m quite sorry to inform you of this. I’m afraid she’s been killed.”
“She’s been what?” Robert exclaimed in wide-eyed horror.
“You heard me, Captain. An errant artillery shell struck the nurse’s quarters. Nurse MacCreedy, having been at the wrong place and time, she was killed instantly. Fortunately, only one other nurse was hit, and she has since recovered.”
At this revelation, Robert immediately collapsed in obvious grief onto the nearest bunk, murmuring to himself, “That simply cannot be.” But then, addressing the doctor further, he inquired, “Look here, Doctor, are you sure you don’t have the wrong person? Perhaps it was someone else who was killed?”
“Not a chance, captain. Her body was badly mangled, but they found sufficient items that were her personal effects to make a positive identification.”
“When was that, sir?”
“Exactly two weeks ago. I remember, because it was my birthday, although these days celebrating one’s birthday seems rather puerile, if you know what I mean.”
“Yes, old chap - I quite agree,” Robert responded miserably and, in grief-stricken shock, he blurted, “She told me all her dreams had been shattered by this war. Now she’s gone, and it seems my dreams have been shattered as well.”
Observing his immense sense of loss, the doctor responded with misplaced acuity, “Yes, sometimes I think the dead are the fortunate ones.”
Still outwardly shaken, Robert inquired morosely, “Might there be any of her personal effects still on hand, doctor?”
“Not that I am aware of. I’m sorry, Captain Sutherland, it is apparent that her death has hit you quite hard. My condolences, sir, she was quite a nurse.”
“Yes, and quite the lady as well, I assure you,” Robert responded, his mind churning in disbelief. “Well, I suppose there is nothing to be done for it. Somehow, I must carry on, though I have no idea how at the moment…” and at this rather maudlin explication, he added somberly, “Well then, thank you, Dr. Stonewell. Good day,” and with that he wandered distraughtly from the field hospital.
A Month Later
Elizabeth trudged into the hospital tent, dropped her pack, and thrust her wearisome body onto the bunk, her complete exhaustion apparent to anyone watching. She had just been transferred back to the ANZAC hospital from up the line. Lying prone, she rested her eyes for several minutes, intending to sleep until morning. But another nurse came in, at which point she rolled over, noticing the interruption.
“Oh, hello,” the nurse said, then turning toward Elizabeth, she continued, “Say, don’t I know you? You’re Margaret MacCreedy’s friend, right?”
“Yes, do you know her?”
“Well, not really, not that well.”
“Would you know where she is?”
At this the nurse turned towards her and, taking a single step in her direction, she blurted hesitantly, “Oh, you’ve not heard then…”
“Heard what?” Elizabeth queried.
“Might I ask your name?”
“Elizabeth, Elizabeth Turnberry.”
Now inching a bit closer, the nurse offered, “I’m Nicole Winslow,” and by now she had come right up to Elizabeth’s bunk. She paused a moment, as if unsure what to do, then announced sadly, “Look, I’m terribly sorry to be the bearer of bad news, Elizabeth, but I’m afraid that your friend has been killed.”
At this revelation, Elizabeth lunged forward, sat straight up in her bunk, and exclaimed, “What! No! Not Margaret!”
“Yes, I’m afraid so.”
“Are you sure? Margaret MacCreedy - could you be mistaking her for someone else?”
“I’m afraid not. You see, everyone is talking about it.”
“Talking about what?”
“Apparently an errant artillery shell struck the nurse’s tent that she was bunked in.”
“What! That’s impossible!” Elizabeth exclaimed in evident denial.
“Right! That’s why everyone’s talking about it. We all thought we were relatively safe here behind the lines. Now, we’re not so sure any more.”
“Is anyone investigating?”
“Well, yes and no. They did investigate, but it’s all over and done with. They positively identified her remains.”
“Poor Margaret!” Elizabeth moaned, and gripping herself in disbelief, she sobbed, “Was anyone else hurt?”
“No, just one other nurse was hit, and she’s made a full recovery.”
“My God,” Elizabeth cried and, clutching her throat with one hand, she croaked, “This is just too much. She was my very best friend in all the world. How shall I go on?”
“Give it time, Elizabeth,” Nicole responded sympathetically, “In the meantime, I’m here if you need me.”
“Thanks, Nicole,” Elizabeth sniveled between sobs, “I shall count on you.”
A month later Elizabeth was transferred to England.
Those Who Fought for Us Page 14