War Nurse

by Sue Reid

  Saturday 9 September

  So lucky – my half day off and the others are off too! Slept in – bliss! – and then we cycled into town together – Bunty, me, Molly and Marjorie. I asked Nurse Mason if she’d like to come too, but I was quite relieved when she said no thank you, she had a lot to do. I raced along to the dorm, where the others were waiting for me. It was heaven to get away from the hospital and we sang as we cycled along.

  It was very quiet in the town. Because it’s on the coast, a lot of the townspeople have left and many of the houses – and a lot of the shops – are boarded up.

  After cycling around for a time, we found an ice cream parlour that was still open, and Bunty treated us all to strawberry ice cream. Delish!

  We ate our ices sitting on the beach and then I lay back on the warm sand, pillowing my head on my arms.

  “So – what’s the verdict?” A shadow fell across my face and I opened my eyes to find Bunty peering at me.

  I shut my eyes again. I didn’t feel like talking.

  “Come on, Kitten – tell,” Bunty wheedled. “I want to know all about Ward B.”

  “Ask Molly,” I said sleepily.

  “Is it true that Sister Rook is the most terrifying QA in the hospital?”

  “No,” said Marjorie. “That’s Sister Brown.”

  “Who’s she?” I asked, eyes still shut.

  “She’s the Sister on my ward,” said Marjorie.

  We giggled and I sat up, hugging my knees.

  “I think I’m lucky then,” said Bunty. “Sister Bolton on my ward is sweet.”

  “How are you getting on with Nurse Mason, Kitty?” asked Marjorie.

  “She’s all right,” I said. “But I wish I was in the dorm with all of you.”

  “Kitten,” said Bunty firmly. “I want to know. Do you like being an army nurse?”

  “It’s all cleaning, bedbaths and bedpans,” I said. “I’d like to do some real nursing.”

  “You and your real nursing,” said Bunty. “You’re a VAD, not a trained nurse.”

  “I know, I know,” I said, lying back down again. I knew that Bunty was right, but still, I wanted to do more. Proper nursing. We cycled slowly back, along the promenade that runs above the beach. While the others rode on ahead I stopped for a moment and stared out to sea. It was another glorious autumn day and the sea looked so calm and peaceful, yet somewhere across that narrow strip of water was our army – the BEF (British Expeditionary Force). Some time soon my brother’s unit would be joining them. Today I found that hard to believe. Even seeing those boarded-up houses hadn’t made the War any more real to me. It seems so very far away – almost as if it’s not really happening at all.

  Sunday 10 September

  I was in the bath this evening when the alarm bell rang. It was our first air-raid warning.

  I leaped out of the bath, pulled on my clothes and hared downstairs. I was terrified – my legs jelly on the stairs, gas mask strapped across my chest, tin hat in my shaking hand. After the Roll had been taken we huddled together in the mess, listening – for what? The drone of an enemy plane flying overhead? A bomb dropping on top of us? We clung on to each other – teeth chattering in chorus.

  “Are you frightened?” Bunty whispered to me.

  “’Course I am,” I said. “Aren’t you?”

  “Terrified,” she said.

  It wasn’t long before the all-clear went – false alarm. A big sigh went up round the room.

  My teeth were still chattering as we went back upstairs. “Are you still scared?” Bunty asked me.

  “I’m cold. I was having a bath when the alarm went.”

  “Honest?”

  “Honest!”

  Monday 11 September

  One of the first things a VAD learns is where the bedpans are kept. This morning, when the cry went up, I dashed as usual into the annexe to fetch one. As fast as I could I pulled screens round my patient’s bed. Next I had to slide the thing under the patient’s body. This is never an easy job – you have the pan in one hand, and have to help hoist the patient up with the other. Afterwards, I carefully remove the pan, cover it with a cloth and slowly walk across the ward to the annexe where the pans are cleaned. Only this morning I forgot to cover it! Sister nearly had a fit when she saw me carry the full pan back across the ward.

  After that I felt awfully jumpy, and my fingers were all thumbs. This afternoon I dropped the sterile Cheatle forceps on the floor with a clang. Then it took me ages before I got the water the right temperature for a patient’s bath. At that, even nice Nurse Winter lost patience with me. By the time I went off duty I was dog-tired and practically in tears. Out of the corner of my eye I could see Sister smiling – actually smiling! – at Nurse Mason.

  I looked back as the ward doors closed behind me. Nurse Mason was wheeling the dressing trolley over to Corporal Smart’s bed. I saw her lift the forceps out of the jar. I turned away then. I didn’t want to see any more. I just knew that Nurse Mason wouldn’t drop them.

  Not like me.

  Tuesday 12 September

  I gave myself a bit of a talking-to last night. I have resolved that:

  I must not let Sister Rook upset me. She’s right to criticize me when I make mistakes.

  I must never forget that I’m here to look after the patients. That’s more important than anything else.

  The talking-to seemed to have worked. I didn’t make a single mistake all morning!

  My first shift ended at two today and off I went to have my vaccinations. We all have to have these to protect us from serious diseases like smallpox and typhoid. I was back on duty at five, but my arm felt hot and heavy and by six o’clock I was feeling very wobbly. Sister glanced at me, laid a cool dry hand on my forehead, and jabbed a thermometer in my mouth. 100 degrees! She told me to go to bed and to stay there until my temperature had come down. Her voice was unusually gentle. Most surprising.

  My temperature was up again this evening. I’m sure that tossing and turning on those awful army biscuits didn’t help.

  Something else surprising – Nurse Mason must have brought me a mug of tea. I found it – cold – when I woke up.

  Wednesday 13 September

  My arm’s still rather stiff, but my temperature’s down so it was back on duty for me.

  Our youngest QA – Nurse Green – was in such a flap this morning. One of our patients – Private Johnson – was due to be discharged back to his regiment today. Suddenly his temperature shot up. 103!

  It was very odd. He’d seemed all right at breakfast. And then I saw the mug of tea on his locker. Of course it was obvious then what Private Johnson had done – he’d stuck the thermometer in the mug of hot tea. It’s an old, old trick. I went up to Nurse Green.

  “Nurse Green,” I said shyly, pointing to the mug. “Do you think that . . . maybe. . .?”

  She wouldn’t even let me finish. “Don’t be ridiculous, Nurse Langley,” she snapped.

  I caught Molly’s eye. Her eyes widened when I pointed out the mug. We grinned at each other, and then I turned back to find Nurse Green glaring at me so I hopped off to my duties.

  Sister had popped out, so Nurse Green went to fetch a doctor. It wasn’t Major Roberts who came, it was a tall, young doctor I’d not seen before. He strode up to the bed, looking awfully keen. “A real case for me,” his face seemed to say. It was such a nice face too, I thought.

  Nurse Green explained the problem and the MO nodded seriously. He took Johnson’s wrist in his fingers and checked his pulse. Then I watched as he got out his stethoscope to listen to his chest, and then he began to prod and pull Johnson all over the place. He looked very puzzled. He hadn’t seen the mug of tea. I wished I could tell him about it, but I was only a VAD and we VADs are not supposed to talk to the doctors.

  Johnson just lay there, eyes shut, though I saw him win
ce once or twice.

  Then Sister reappeared, and the MO explained his findings. Sister nodded her head. She looked at Johnson.

  “Now, Johnson, what’s all this?” I heard her ask him briskly.

  “Oh, Sister, I come over all bad. Very sudden it was,” he said, eyes still firmly shut. Sister nodded grimly and thrust the thermometer back in Johnson’s open mouth. After a minute she took it out and examined it.

  “Well, it’s back to normal now,” she said. “You seem to have made an equally sudden recovery.” I saw her reach up to the bedside locker. She picked up the mug.

  Sister Rook just looked at Nurse Green. She didn’t need to say anything. Nurse Green got out a handkerchief and pretended to blow her nose, but we could all see how red her face had gone behind it. I looked down at my feet.

  “Thank you, Lieutenant,” Sister Rook said, turning to the MO. The expression on her face was clear enough. Major Roberts would never have made a mistake like that. I felt sorry for the MO then.

  Sister Rook pursed up her lips in that way of hers and looked at her patient firmly. Johnson just rolled his eyes and shrugged his shoulders. I suppose he’d thought it worth a try.

  Nurse Green was on the mat for that, and Sister looked more and more sour as the day went on. It was all “sweep up that fluff!” (there wasn’t any) and “why’s that patient’s sheet not straight?” (it was!). I was very relieved when it was five o’clock and I went off duty.

  Bunty and Marjorie were also finishing at five today and they asked me to come into town with them, but my arm was still sore and all I wanted to do was crawl upstairs to bed. It’s all I ever want to do when I go off duty. My arms have sprouted muscles I never knew I had from heaving that bumper about. My feet and back ache constantly from standing all day long. As for my hands – already they’re rough and red from all the washing and cleaning. Sister’s hands are as soft as a baby’s. I don’t know what her secret is but Bunty reckons it’s because she spends more time in the duty room with our MO than on the ward. She says everyone knows that Sister Rook has a soft spot for Major Roberts. That did make us laugh. I even saw Nurse Mason’s lips twitch. If you knew Major Roberts you’d understand why.

  I still don’t know Nurse Mason’s first name, and wonder if she’ll ever tell me it. She’s awfully proper. We’re all rather in awe of her – even Bunty.

  Thursday 14 September

  Letter from Anne today! When it was time for my break I settled down to read it.

  “Dear Kitten, It’s so awful that you’re down there and I’m up here in Leeds. I do not like it here. The hospital’s outside the town, it rains all the time and I don’t know a soul. Food’s awful. Sister’s a little tyrant. We spend most of our time cleaning!”

  “Are the rest of the St Jude’s gang there? Remember me to them.”

  “Wish I was there – or you here. I miss you so much.”

  “Are you keeping up your diary? I am! Please write soon. I want lots of gossip. Better stop now – or I’ll be late for work and Sister will eat me alive.”

  I turned the page over. Anne had scribbled a brief PS on the back: “Have you heard from Giles yet? I’ll bet he looks dashing in his pilot’s uniform.”

  I haven’t heard from Giles yet. Giles is sort of my boyfriend. I met him at a village dance earlier this summer and he told me he was joining the RAF. He wants to train as a fighter pilot. Anyway, he asked if he could write to me and would I write back. I felt very flattered – he’s awfully handsome – and I liked him too, so I said that I would. I wonder when I’ll hear from him. I’ve been here nearly two weeks now and not a squeak from him. I’m beginning to think he’s forgotten me already.

  Friday 15 September

  I had a bit of a grumble to Molly about Sister today and . . . and . . . well, about everything. Like all the silly rules, that clicking of heels, and that to-do about how the patients lay in bed when the Colonel did his inspection. It seemed all wrong to me. “Their comfort should come first,” I said to Molly vehemently.

  And lastly, I aired my favourite grumble – when when when would I get the chance to do some proper nursing?

  “When I can trust you, Nurse Langley,” I thought I heard someone say. A moment later I saw Sister sail past us. Was that her voice in my ear, or just a tiny voice inside my head? It’s been puzzling me all afternoon, and I just don’t know the answer.

  Monday 18 September

  I got my first-ever letter from Giles today. I was so pleased when I saw it waiting for me – raced off straightaway to read it – but now I just feel miserable.

  It was all about the planes he’s learning to fly – lots of technical stuff that’s too boring to write here. It wasn’t what I’d been expecting at all. Then at the end he wrote: “Ripping that you said you’d write to me. Please write back – soon.” He sounded a bit lonely – and suddenly I felt sorry for him. But I don’t want to feel sorry for him – not if he’s to be my boyfriend. Oh bother, I don’t know what I feel – or what he feels about me! I wish there was someone I could talk to about Giles – someone who really knows him.

  I’d been so looking forward to hearing from him. And I know I must write back soon, but now I just don’t know what to say to him.

  Monday 25 September

  Weekly gas drill this morning. For half an hour we had to do the chores with our gas masks and tin hats on. I always want to giggle when I see Sister Rook in hers – today I did, and then my mask misted up and I tripped up over Private Baker’s boots. I made a grab for the bedpost and righted myself just in time. Luckily Sister didn’t notice, or I’d have been in trouble again.

  It’s a week now since I had my letter from Giles but I only sat down to answer it today. My first attempt was awfully stilted – all about my work on the wards. It was quite as dull as his. So I tried again. I told myself to forget the awfully unsatisfactory letter I’d got from him and just think about the boy I’d met and how much I’d liked him. That made it much easier and I got on swimmingly. I feel a lot happier now. What does one silly letter matter anyway?

  Wednesday 27 September

  This evening I saw a bunch of VADs clustered round the notice board in the mess. I couldn’t get close enough to see what the fuss was all about, but Molly saw me and called me over.

  “We’ve been asked to a regimental dance,” she said excitedly, waving a finger at the board.

  I’m thrilled! I’ve never been to a regimental dance before! Bunty’s already planning to go into town first to get her hair done. I don’t know how she thinks she’ll find the time. Marjorie’s going round with a long face. Poor Marjorie. She’s just started on night duty and so will miss all the fun.

  Friday 29 September

  Molly and I are so envious of Nurse Mason! She’s won Sister’s trust – the first of us three to do so. So now she’s being allowed to take the patients’ temperature, pulse and respiration – a very responsible job. (Doing the TPRs we call this.) And it’s all thanks to Molly’s infected hand.

  We were in the annexe today, putting away the cleaning things, when I heard Nurse Mason exclaim: “Nurse Smythe – your hand!” She sounded really shocked. Molly looked down at it and tucked it out of sight at once, but Nurse Mason asked if she could have a look. Slowly Molly held out her hand and Nurse Mason took it in hers and turned it over. It was very inflamed and sore-looking. As Nurse Mason was inspecting it, I noticed her hands too. I was startled. They look as soft and white as Sister’s, yet Nurse Mason spends just as much time cleaning as Molly and me.

  “You need to get that treated,” she said at last, putting Molly’s hand down gently. Then she had a look at Molly’s other hand. It, too, was all red and cracked. I clasped my own roughened hands behind my back, feeling rather ashamed of them.

  “Make sure you put plenty of cream on that hand,” she told Molly firmly. “Germs can get into the cracks. You don’t want it to get inf
ected, do you?”

  Molly looked awfully sheepish, but before she could say anything Sister’s voice cut in.

  “Nurse Smythe, Nurse Mason, I’d like a word with you.” We all jumped – even Nurse Mason! I wish Sister wouldn’t creep up on us like that.

  Poor Molly! When Sister Rook saw her hands she gave her such a wigging. Afterwards she shooed her into the treatment room and then she beckoned Nurse Mason over. I thought she was going to get a telling off too – for talking – but Sister Rook was smiling now. I wondered what Sister was saying to her.

  Later this morning I found out. Nurse Mason walked up to a patient, a thermometer in her hand. She popped it into his mouth. I thought I’d drop through the floor! Then she put a finger on her patient’s pulse to check that that was normal too and looked carefully at him to check his breathing.

  Nurse Mason was doing the TPRs! I looked at her face. I thought she’d be thrilled, but she looked just the same as she always does.

  As for me, I was still in shock. But I’m not surprised that she’s won Sister’s trust. Nurse Mason is a jolly good VAD.

  She’s not popular amongst the VADs though. This evening when we left Ward B I heard some VADs giggling about her in the corridor.