by Emma Fraser
‘Nothing wrong with my legs or my ability to operate,’ Dr Lightfoot grumbled. ‘Can’t see why I shouldn’t go too.’
‘We need you here,’ the MO said. ‘Now, I require some nurses and orderlies. We’re expecting more to arrive any day but I’d rather keep the new recruits here to begin with.’
Maud raised her hand. ‘I might get a chance to see Milan,’ she whispered to Jessie. ‘And if Dr MacKenzie’s volunteering, how can I say no?’ She jabbed her in the ribs with her elbow. ‘Come too, Jessie. We’re in this together.’
Jessie smiled and raised her hand. Although it would mean working more closely with Isabel, how could she resist the chance to be closer to the fighting soldiers and the possibility of hearing a sliver of news about Tommy?
‘If you’re going, Sister, I’m blowed if I’m going to stay behind,’ Evans said. ‘You’re my talisman.’
Several more volunteered, until they numbered twenty.
‘Dr MacKenzie will be acting as chief medical officer,’ Dr Bradshaw said, ‘although one of the more senior doctors will visit you as often as she can. I’d like you to be ready to go tomorrow. It will all be under canvas, I’m afraid, but you’ll have everything you need exactly as it is here.’
They filed out and Maud tucked her arm into Isabel’s. ‘CMO! My dear, you’re going up in the world.’
Isabel paused. ‘I’m so glad you’re all coming with me. Now I don’t feel nearly as nervous.’
Jessie doubted that Isabel had ever felt nervous. Everyone spoke of the doctor’s coolness in the operating theatre. Sometimes she wondered if Isabel had a heart.
As she was about to return to her ward, a nurse came towards them with a pile of mail. ‘There’s one for you, Sister Stuart.’ When she held out a handwritten letter, Jessie recognised the writing: it was from Captain Steel, Tommy’s commanding officer.
She took the letter and went to sit under an olive tree. She had come to dread opening Steel’s missives. They never said anything different.
When she had finished reading she buried her face in her hands and sobbed. Just when she thought she had no tears left, she felt a shadow fall over her and looked up to find Isabel, Maud and Evans standing there, their faces tight with concern.
Isabel dropped to her knees beside her. ‘Bad news, Jessie?’
‘No. The best. My Tommy’s alive.’ She held out the letter. ‘Read it, please, so I know it’s real.’
Isabel took it, and when a smile crossed her face Jessie knew she wasn’t dreaming. There was no mistake. Tommy wasn’t dead. He had been in hospital in Germany for some time, although the captain didn’t know what his injuries were, before being transferred to a prisoner-of-war camp. The Red Cross had written to her in Edinburgh as well as to him.
She had always known that Tommy couldn’t be dead, and now she had proof. Her beloved Tommy was alive and one day, when this wretched war was over, he’d be coming back to her.
Chapter 44
Serbia, early October 1915
The camp in Mladanovatz was indeed under canvas, and as the women struggled to pitch their tents, the wind whipped their skirts over their heads and blew into their hair. Jessie was glad that she had decided to cut hers.
The sound of cannon was louder there. Every few minutes an explosion would rock the ground beneath their feet, and when the wind dropped, the rat-a-tat of bullets could be heard distinctly. Soldiers filed past on their way to the fighting, and there was talk that the Allies would be coming to join the Serbian Army. Everyone prayed that this would be so. And not before time. The Serbians had put up such a valiant defence of their small country that it was inconceivable it should fall now.
Immediately they had set up the field hospital, they were inundated with patients. The men came in a continuous stream, most on bullock carts, wrapped in blankets, some carried on their comrades’ backs or crawling on hands and knees. The injuries were heartbreaking: men with their torsos ripped open, their insides lying beside them in the mud, missing arms and legs, sometimes several limbs; men with faces half blown away and missing eyes. As soon as an injured soldier had been attended to, he was placed on a stretcher and sent to another hospital by train. Jessie tried not to think about the dying and the maimed as she held hands and dressed wounds, but for all of them, it was becoming increasingly difficult. At least she had the knowledge that Tommy was alive to sustain her. She wished he would write to her but knew it was possible that she would have to wait until the war ended before she heard from him.
It wasn’t long before the carefree days of the summer were nothing but a distant memory. There were no more picnics or concerts as the staff worked tirelessly to keep ahead of the relentless flow of casualties. Shocking news of Edith Cavell’s arrest on suspicion of spying had reached them and every Sunday there were prayers for her safe release. The mood was sombre in the camp and, as more and more news of atrocities reached them, hatred of the enemy solidified.
Jessie and Maud shared a tent, and although Maud longed to go to Belgrade to see her Serbian doctor, she had been forbidden to go by Dr Inglis, who had come to Mladanovatz to help.
The doctors, Isabel included, were operating constantly, often returning to the theatre after supper. Sometimes they had to work through the night, even though they’d been on their feet all day. The worst time to be on duty was dawn: in the dim light the staff would have to step over patients lying on mattresses on the ground and sometimes, on their way outside to incinerate bloodied bandages and blood-soaked pillows, they would trip over a basin or bag. Most patients died in the small hours of the morning, and there were always bodies to be buried before the others awoke.
There was too much to do to pay attention to the fighting, but Jessie worried about Archie. The worst of the fighting was taking place close to Belgrade only a few miles away and he was bringing the wounded back from the first-aid dressing station on the front line. He continued to visit when he could, but even he had lost some of his swagger.
Sometimes Jessie caught a glimpse of his dark head as he delivered another patient to their hospital but no sooner had he placed the stretcher on the ground then he was off again. Occasionally he would come into the mess and have tea with them.
‘Your brother and Dr MacKenzie appear to be spending time together,’ Maud said, one day, as they changed the dressings of a soldier who had shrapnel wounds to his abdomen, legs and torso. Isabel had been the operating surgeon and, as always, her stitching was neat.
Jessie looked up. ‘I can’t see when they would find the time.’
Maud’s head was bent over their patient as she swabbed the wounds with carbolic acid. ‘One can find time if one really wants to. I say good luck to them. We all need something to take our minds off this.’
‘I don’t think…’ Jessie paused. She liked Maud, and hoped they would remain friends after the war, but gossip linking Isabel’s name with Archie’s could hurt them both.
They finished the dressings and left one of the orderlies to give the soldier a cigarette and a cup of tea. They moved to the sisters’ table to write up what they had done.
‘Things won’t be the same after this, Jessie. We can’t go back to how things were. It makes no sense. Our mamas and papas will have to understand that we’re different women from the ones they knew.’
An explosion, so near it sounded almost right outside, deafened them.
‘More wounded coming in!’ Evans popped her head through the tent flap. ‘No supper for us for a while.’
They worked on through the evening until all the wounded had been operated on and settled for the night.
They were heading for the mess tent, the whizzes and bangs of exploding shells lighting the sky, when Jessie saw Archie. Unshaven and splattered with mud and blood, he was walking alongside one of the British commanding officers. Instead of stopping to talk to her, he followed the officer into Dr Inglis’s tent. Their leader had come a few days ago for one of her visits.
‘You go on withou
t me,’ Jessie said to Maud. ‘I want to find out what’s going on.’
She loitered outside the tent and waited for Archie to reappear. When both men did, the major’s mouth was set in a grim line. Paying no attention to Jessie, he turned to Archie. ‘You know these women, McPherson, don’t you?’ he barked.
‘I do,’ Archie replied.
‘Well, use your influence, man, and make them see sense. If they insist on staying, we can’t protect them.’ He stalked off without waiting for a reply. Jessie smiled. She could just imagine the scene between the major and Dr Inglis and had no difficulty in guessing who had come off worse.
Archie pulled his hand through his hair in the gesture Jessie knew so well. His usual ready grin was missing. ‘He’s right, Jessie. You have to go. The Austrians have retaken Belgrade. You’ve done a grand job but it’s over for the Serbian Army. They’ve started retreating. The unit I’m with will follow soon.’
The tent flap opened and Dr Inglis swept past. ‘Sister Stuart, please let the others know that I wish to speak to them in the mess. Eight thirty sharp. Only those who have to stay on the ward to care for the patients are exempt.’ With a rustle of her skirts, she was gone.
‘A Thighearna, is she always like that?’ Archie asked, bemused. ‘She gave the major a right earful just now. Said that no army could tell her what to do.’
Jessie grinned back. ‘Dr Inglis is a tough bird, but we love her. No one works harder than she does. If she asks us to stay, we’ll stay.’
The smile left Archie’s face and he glowered at her. ‘Jessie, listen. There’s no telling what the Germans will do if they capture you. Hasn’t the execution of Nurse Cavell taught you that? And the doctors here aren’t even in uniform.’ Two days ago they’d heard that the brave nurse had been executed by firing squad and that even at the last she’d refused to condemn the enemy.
‘Yes, they are,’ Jessie protested, determined to lighten his mood. ‘They would never wear those horrible grey skirts and jackets unless they had to. You have to hear them complaining to know that it’s a uniform.’
‘It may be a uniform to them, but I doubt it will appear so to the Germans. You can’t take the chance that they won’t shoot the lot of you. Jessie, please, listen to me. This is no joking matter. You have to leave.’
Jessie studied Archie’s face. He meant every word. But how could they leave when so many men still depended on them?
‘We’ll be all right, Archie. We’ll go when Dr Inglis tells us it’s time to and not a moment sooner.’
As Jessie had suspected, Dr Inglis wanted to discuss the major’s visit with them. As soon as Jessie had left Archie, she went from tent to tent rousing women. Happily, most of the day shift were still awake, either chatting as they toasted bread in front of a stove or writing letters home. Once she had passed on Dr Inglis’s message, she went to the wards to find the night sister. She appeared irritated to be robbed of her staff – even for an hour – but nodded briefly and told Jessie to leave it to her. No one would dream of going against Dr Inglis’s orders, not even the night sister.
The women gathered in the dining room. Isabel was there, looking curious but unalarmed. Maud and Evans arrived together, the latter seeming more alert than usual. Some of the women clustered around Jessie, asking if she knew what the meeting was about.
‘You’ll have to wait for Dr Inglis,’ she said, ignoring their pleas for ‘just the tiniest snippet of what it’s all about’. Whatever Archie said, Jessie wasn’t going to be the one to influence anyone one way or another.
She looked around the chattering women. She would miss them when this was over. Despite the niggles that were an inevitable consequence of living together, they were a fine bunch, brave and uncomplaining, and Jessie was proud to be among them.
Everyone hushed as Dr Inglis strode in, followed by Dr Bradshaw.
‘Good evening, ladies.’ The habitual twinkle behind her usually severe expression was absent. ‘Thank you for coming.’
Her audience waited patiently. Only the sound of the wind and the distant boom of cannon disturbed the silence.
‘I’ve brought you here to update you as to the present situation and to ask you to make a decision.’
The tent filled with a low murmuring, and Dr Inglis waited until everyone had settled down again before continuing. ‘The British consul came to see me this evening, to let me know that he thinks we should leave. The Serbian Army is in retreat and our safety can no longer be guaranteed.’ She flashed one of her rare smiles. ‘If I could have sixpence for the amount of times I’ve heard that I’d be a rich woman.’
Some of the women clapped, and others called, ‘Hear, Hear!’ Jessie glanced to where Isabel was sitting, her hands folded on her lap and her head cocked to one side as she listened. On Isabel’s right, Maud smiled and raised a fist. Evans’s eyes were closed as her lips moved in silent prayer.
‘But this time he may be correct. If the army pulls out we will be unprotected, and there is a chance that, as the enemy draws closer, we’ll find ourselves behind enemy lines. Despite what the major says, I don’t believe that the German Army will treat us with anything but respect. But I cannot guarantee it. Especially now that we know what was done to our colleague, Matron Cavell.’
The room hushed once more.
‘For this reason, you must all think carefully about whether you wish to stay. I will hold no one back who feels she must leave. That must be a private and individual decision.’ She smiled again. ‘I’m proud of each and every one of you. The units of the Scottish Women’s Hospital have shown themselves to be unshakeable and, in many cases, the shining lights of the war. This is down to you and the high standard of care. One might say we have done enough, and for some of you, this will be the case. To you, I say, thank you and God bless you. But I intend to stay in Serbia. I cannot find it in my heart to leave when I’m still needed. I do not intend you to vote or even make a decision tonight. I wish you to think on it and let me know in the morning.’ As she gathered up her papers, Jessie stood.
‘I don’t need to sleep or to think further. I’ll stay,’ she said.
‘I shall also,’ a familiar voice rang out. Isabel was on her feet. Instantly, Evans and Maud were standing. ‘Me too.’ Then, one by one, every woman in the room got to her feet.
‘I will stay.’
‘And I.’
‘I’m not running. Don’t they know they can’t scare us away?’
Jessie’s throat tightened and, for a moment, she thought she saw Dr Inglis brush a tear from her eye. But immediately the small, beloved figure smiled. ‘I expected nothing else from you all. I will be in my office tomorrow morning, if anyone decides that they should leave.’ With a final smile, Dr Inglis left the room.
There was one departure the next morning – an orderly from Royaumont whom everyone had worried about since her arrival in Serbia four weeks earlier. Lady Arabella Jones had been unable to deal with the blood and pain she’d witnessed and had been transferred to kitchen duties, but even then she had gone about with a fearful, haunted expression. No one blamed her for leaving, especially as Lady Arabella was clearly so distraught about her inability to cope.
Dr Bradshaw and Dr Inglis were leaving too. Dr Bradshaw to Kruševatc and Dr Inglis to visit the high commissioner in Nish. In her absence, Isabel was to carry on as CMO in charge of the unit. The women had to be ready to pack up camp and retreat with the Serbian Army as soon as the word was given.
In the meantime, they would carry on as usual.
Chapter 45
A few days after Dr Inglis’s departure, Isabel was repairing a tear to her skirt before retiring for the night when Maud walked in. The pity in her eyes sent a jolt down Isabel’s spine. Her sewing forgotten, she jumped to her feet. ‘What is it?’ she asked.
‘You must be brave.’
‘Just tell me.’
‘One of the soldiers has brought news from Belgrade. He says the Germans are firing on the stretcher parties. He sa
ys that two Americans – a doctor and one of the bearers – have been killed.’
‘Archie?’ It was all Isabel could force from her numbing lips.
‘He doesn’t know who. Just that the dead men are American.’
Dear God. Please let it not be Archie.
‘Does Jessie know?’
‘I told her. She refuses to believe it’s him. She’s insisting that God wouldn’t do this to her – not when she’s just got her husband back. She’s gone to the chapel to pray.’
‘I must go to her.’
‘I don’t think you should.’ Maud reached out and touched Isabel on the arm. ‘I don’t know what the trouble is between you two, but I suspect she has seen how you look at her brother and doesn’t like it.’
Isabel started. Had her feelings been so obvious?
‘I have to go back to the ward,’ Maud continued. ‘Will you be all right?’
Isabel didn’t try to pretend that she didn’t know what Maud was saying to her. She nodded. After Maud was gone she very carefully folded the skirt she’d been sewing and placed it in her needlework basket. Then she put on her coat over her nightdress and replaced her shoes with wellington boots. It was all done very deliberately, each action steadying her a little, as if by doing each thing she had done for weeks she could keep this day exactly as the others.
She left her tent and headed away from the camp.
It was the same as every other evening – the mass of soldiers tramping past, although no longer singing. In their faces she read defeat. Staring straight ahead, lest anyone call out to her, she followed the little track that led down to the lake. The sun was setting so it was unlikely that anyone would be lingering there, but if she saw someone she would skirt the lake and make for the nearby copse. Over the weeks and months she’d tolerated never being on her own, but now she needed solitude.
As she’d hoped, the lake was deserted. She found a rock to lean against and spread her coat on the ground. What if Archie were dead and she had missed her chance to tell him, just once, that she loved him? That she didn’t know if she could be with him but she loved him.