by Unknown
My back is killing me, Maisie. Florrie the Lorry did not want to go to work this morning, so I did double duty with the starting handle. I had only two hours rest last night, after a twenty-hour shift. Maisie, I can only barely remember the last time I slept for more than just a few hours. My clothes are becoming one with my body, and I dread to imagine how I must reek! Mind you, one simply cannot go on about one's aching back and stinging eyes when faced with the good humor of these boys, even as they are suffering the pain of torn limbs and the terror of seeing comrades die. Despite rain that seems to come down in buckets here, there are some days that suddenly get very hot and humid indeed, especially if you are lugging around the added weight of a heavy uniform glued to your body. Many of the boys have taken a knife to their woolen trousers to get some relief from the chafing of army issue cloth. I suppose it's less for the doctors to cut away, but loaded on to Florrie they look like schoolboys who've taken a wrong turning into hell. I had a boy die on me yesterday. Maisie, his eyes were as deep a blue as that dress you wore to Simon's party, and he could not have been more than seventeen. Poor lad hadn't even begun to shave, just a bit of fluff on his chin. I wanted to just sit there and weep. But you know, you just have to go on. If I stood around in mourning for them, another poor boy would die for want of an ambulance. I don't know what the papers are saying, but here's
Priscilla's letter was abruptly halted by heavy black ink of the censor's pen.
"Here she is. Maisie o' the high seas!" Iris announced as Maisie returned to the cabin.
"Blimey, Maisie, how're you now, then?" Dottie came over to Maisie and put an arm around her shoulder. "Come and sit down. We'll soon be there. Le Havre can't be much longer-can it?" She looked at the other nurses, their heavy capes drawn around them, and settled Maisie into a seat. "You poor little mite, Dobbs. There's nothing of you to start with. Never you mind, we'll soon be in Le Havre. Get us a nice cuppa. That's if the French can make tea"
Iris felt Maisie's forehead and looked at her watch. "You do seem a bit better, though"
Maisie looked at the other girls and leaned against Iris. "Cocoa and cake," she muttered, and promptly fell into a deep sleep.
rom Le Havre the train journey to Rouen passed uneventfully. The young women were tired from the journey but managed to keep awake long enough to watch their first few minutes of foreign soil speed past. Arriving at the port of Rouen, the nurses were met by a medical officer, and taken to the Hotel St. Georges, where they expected to stay for two nights while they waited for orders.
"Let's get ourselves a nice wash and have a cup of tea downstairs," suggested Iris as they settled into the room all four women were to share.
Iris was a tall, big-boned girl, whose uniform always looked rather too small for her. She considered this a blessing. The unfashionably long and impractical woolen dress of the uniform was shorter on her than on the other nurses. Not only could she move with greater ease, but soon she would avoid having her hemline drag in the never-ending mud, the bane of a nurse's life in France.
"How are you feeling, Dobbs?" asked the soft-spoken Bess, maintaining the discipline of hospital address.
"Much better, thank you. And a cup of tea would be just lovely."
The women each unpacked their few belongings, washed faces and hands at the large white enameled stone sink, and brushed hair back into place. As usual Maisie struggled to fasten the stray tendrils of jet black hair that crept out from under her hat. When they left the room, the women looked almost as fresh as they had in the early hours of the morning, when they had joined their train at Charing Cross for the journey to Folkestone, their port of departure for France.
"Zook at those cakes. My word, never seen a pastry like that before; it's a wonder they can do that in wartime," said Dottie.
"No, and you've never tasted a cup of tea like this before either"
Iris winced at the weak tea and reached out to take one of the delicate pastries from the china plate placed in the center of the table.
Maisie was quiet, looking around her at the rather aged grandeur of the dining room at the Hotel St. Georges. Large mirrors were positioned on each wall, and ornate archways led into the lounge on one side and the marble-floored lobby on the other. Waiters ran back and forth, elegant in black trousers that shone with too much pressing, white shirts, black ties, and long white aprons. They were all older men, for the younger men had gone to war.
The clientele was mainly military personnel, and the hotel was packed with officers going on leave or passing through on their way back to join their regiments. Some were with sweethearts or wives, still others with parents, the fortunate ones whose people could make a journey across the Channel to bid them farewell in France.
Maisie sipped her tea, feeling the warmth, if not the flavor, reach the core of her tired body. She was aware of the conversation at their table, a familiar to-ing and fro-ing of observations and opinions, a giggle here, a raised voice there. But for the most part, as the journey to France ebbed away behind her, Maisie was lost in her own thoughts.
"Excuse me, it's Miss Dobbs, isn't it?"
Maisie was jolted from her daydream back into the dining room. She jumped up and turned to face the person who had spoken to her.
"Oh my goodness!" said Maisie, spilling tea onto the white cloth.
Captain Simon Lynch quickly took her elbow to steady Maisie, and greeted her with a broad smile, which he then extended to her table companions, who had immediately stopped all conversation, indeed all movement, to look at the man who had come to the table to see Maisie.
"Captain Lynch. Well, what a surprise this is!"
Maisie regained her composure and took Simon's offered hand. A waiter quickly and efficiently replaced the tablecloth and offered to bring a chair for Simon, who declined, commenting to her companions that he had just been leaving when he had seen his friend, Miss Dobbs.
Simon turned again to Maisie, and as he did so she noticed that he seemed older. Not just in years, for it was just over a year since they had first met. No, he was older in his soul. His eyes were ringed with gray skin, lines had formed on his fresh young man's face, and already gray hair was showing at his temples.Yet he could be no more than twenty-six.
"Just here for two days' leave. Not enough time for Blighty, I'm afraid. I'd heard from Pris that you'd joined up"
"How is she? Have you seen her?"
"Our paths crossed only once. She brought wounded men to my hospital, but, well, we didn't have time to stand and chat" Simon looked at his hands, then back at Maisie. "So, do you know where you are going yet?"
"No, we get our orders tomorrow morning, perhaps even this evening. Seems a bit chaotic, really."
Simon laughed.
"Chaotic? You haven't seen chaotic until you've been out there"
"I'm sorry." Maisie rubbed her hands together. "What I meant was-
"No, I'm sorry. That was horrible of me. And, yes, it is chaotic. The right arm of the British army hardly seems to know what the left arm's doing. Look, I have to dash off now, but, I wonder, is there any chance that you could have dinner with me tomorrow evening? Or do you have to be chaperoned?"
Simon grinned and looked into Maisie's eyes.
"Well, um, well 11
Maisie looked sideways at her companions, who were continuing with their tea quietly in order to listen to the conversation. She caught Iris's eye and saw the other woman smile, nod her head and mouth the word "Go" Maisie turned back to Simon.
"Yes, Captain Lynch. Dinner would be lovely. And, yes, actually I do have to be chaperoned, so my friends will be dining nearby."
"Right you are. Let's make it an early one then, I'll meet you in the lobby at six o'clock. In fact, I'll meet you all in the lobby at six o'clock!"
Simon bowed, bade good-bye to the nurses, smiled at Maisie, and moved to go.
"Oh, and by the way-that uniform-it's almost as stunning as the blue silk dress"
And then he was gone.
> Maisie took her place once again, amid the giggles of Iris, Dottie, and Bess.
"And what silk dress might that be, Dobbs?"
"You kept that one quiet, didn't you?"
"Sure you want a chaperone?"
Maisie blushed at the teasing, which she knew would continue for some time. She was about to explain that Simon was only a friend of a friend when an RAMC officer approached their table.
"Dobbs, White, Dornhill, and Rigson? Good. Orders are here, and travel warrants. Sorry. You won't be going to the same place. White and Dornhill together at the base hospital. Dobbs and Rigson, you're going to the Fourteenth Casualty Clearing Stationenjoy it here while you can"
And with that he was gone, clutching several large manila envelopes under his arm while negotiating his way through the busy dining room, in search of other nurses on his list.
The four women sat in silence for a few minutes, looking at the brown manila envelopes.
"Well, he's a bundle of joy, isn't he?" said Iris, taking a knife from the table and slicing open the envelope.
"Dobbsie, my girl, we are indeed off to the Fourteenth Casualty Clearing Station, near Bailleul, like Cheerful Charlie over there said. A CCS, that's as near to the battlefield as nurses are allowed, isn't it?"
"And we're at the base hospital here in Rouen, so we won't be going far, will we, Bess?"
"Well, there we are, then. Let's make the most of it, that's what I say. And let's get some sleep."
Iris dabbed at her mouth with her table napkin, and a waiter scurried over to pull out her chair.
"Yes, good idea. At least one of us needs her sleep if she's to be walking out with an officer!"
"Oh, Dottie, he's just"
Maisie rushed to defend herself as the women left the table, but her protestations were lost amid the teasing and banter.
C emembering the events of her dinner with Simon Lynch took Maisie's mind off the journey. First by train, then by field ambulance along mud-filled and rutted roads, Maisie and Iris traveled to the casualty clearing station where they would be based until due for leave in four months' time.
As the train moved slowly along, though it was still light, Maisie had a sense of darkness descending. Gunmetal gray clouds loomed overhead, splashes of rain streaked across the windows, and when the train stopped at a station, the sound of heavy artillery in the distance seemed to echo and reverberate along the tracks. Even the birds had been silenced by the mighty orchestra of battle. With the sights and sounds of war around them, people in the landscape loomed with a stark intensity.
Maisie watched from the train window as lines of people trudged along, and more lines of battered humanity appeared to be strung out into the distance. Whole families were leaving communities close to the battlefields, seeking a place of safety with relatives in other towns and villages.Yet the river of civilian evacuation was a stream compared to the long column of marching soldiers, battle weary in weathered uniforms. Young men with faces prematurely aged, showing fatigue and fear as well as a determined levity.
The marching songs rang out, and as their train passed by, Iris and Maisie leaned out of the slow-moving carriages, waved to the soldiers, and joined in their songs.
With a final wave, Iris and Maisie pulled up the window, and tried to make themselves comfortable again on the prickly wool train seating.
"Funny that your young man's not that many miles from us, isn't it, Dobbs?" Iris looked inquiringly at Maisie when they were settled.
"Oh, for goodness sake, he's not my young man. He's just an old friend of a very good friend of mine. It really is a coincidence that I saw him at all."
"That's as may be, Dobbsie, but I saw the way you two were looking at each other, and I'd say that you were a-courting. Right pair of turtle doves, if you ask me"
"Nonsense. And don't you go repeating this silliness either, Iris. Please. I hardly know him-and I could get into trouble!"
"Blue silk dress eh?"
Iris continued to tease Maisie.
Iris, Dottie, and Bess had taken a table next to Maisie and Simon at dinner, lest it be thought that she was dining completely without a chaperone. But surprising even herself, Maisie hardly noticed other people in the hotel dining room. From the time he had greeted her in the lobby, at six o'clock as arranged, and held out his arm to her, Maisie and Simon Lynch had eyes only for each other.
Now Maisie lowered her eyelids and feigned sleep, which effectively silenced Iris. Left in peace, she was able to envision the dining room again, the waiters running to and fro, and the busyness of people enjoying last farewells or a few days respite from the business of war. And there, at the table with her, was Simon.
Simon who made her laugh with his jokes, putting her at ease. Simon who asked her why she had become a nurse, and when she told the story of Enid, leaned across and took her hand. "She must have meant a lot to you, your friend"
"Yes, yes, she did ... she made me think about all sorts of things. While I was busy with my head in a book, she would bring me down to earth with a thud.Yes ... she made me reconsider my opinions on more than one occasion"
Simon did not release Maisie's hand, and for a moment their eyes met again and they were silent. Abashed, Maisie pulled her hand away and took up her fork. She poked at her food.
"I hope I didn't embarrass you. I, I didn't think-"
"Oh no. That's all right" Maisie blushed.
"It's a strange thing, war. Maisie, you must prepare yourself for what you are going to see. This past year ... the Somme ... I cannot tell you what injuries the men suffer. As a doctor I was trained to deal with one surgical case at a time: I operated on a leg, or a chest, or an arm. But these men are brought in with multiple gaping wounds, I-"
Simon stopped speaking and reached for his glass of claret, which he gripped but did not pick up. He stared into the wine, at the deep red liquid, and then closed his eyes. As he did so, Maisie saw again the lines that crept from the edges of his eyelids to his temples, the creases on his forehead, and the dark circles above his cheekbones.
"I came here thinking I could save every one of them, but half the time-" Simon hesitated, swallowed deeply, and looked directly at Maisie.
"It's so very good to see you, Maisie. It reminds me of how it was before I left England. How I felt about being a doctor. And how very much I hoped that I would see you again"
Maisie blushed again but smiled at Simon.
"Yes, Siinon. I am glad too"
Without thinking she reached for his hand, which he took and gripped tightly. Suddenly aware of the proximity of other diners, Maisie released her hold, and they took up their knives and forks.
"Now then, tell me all about Lady Rowan. I've heard of her, of course. She has quite a reputation as a staunch supporter of the suffragettes. And I've heard that Lord Julian is an absolute saintalthough I doubt he has much time to worry about what she's up to, now that he's at the War Office"
Conversation slipped into the exchanging of stories, of opinions and observations, and by the time dinner was over, Maisie noticed that they had spoken of their dreams, of what they would do "when the war's over."
In that moment she remembered Maurice, walking with her in the orchard one day while at Chelstone, as she broke the news that she had requested a deferment of her place at Cambridge, that she had enlisted at the London Hospital.
She remembered him looking into the distance and speaking, very quietly, almost to himself. "Such is the legacy of war ... the discarded dreams of children ... the waste. The tragedy."
Simon looked at his watch. "Well, sadly, Maisie, I must go. I have meetings while I'm here, I'm afraid. So much for leave, eh?"
"Yes, I have to go, too. We set off early tomorrow morning"
As Maisie placed her white linen table napkin alongside her plate, Simon watched her intently. "Would you mind very much if I wrote to you? It may take a while, but letters can be sent up the line. I'll work out something."
"Yes, that would be
lovely. Please write"
Simon rose to pull out Maisie's chair, and as he did so Maisie noticed her three friends at an adjoining table, all holding coffee cups to their lips and looking at her over the rims of the cups. She had forgotten they were there.
In the lobby Simon once again made a sweeping bow "You may be clad in that wonderfully practical nursing attire, Miss Dobbs, but in my eyes you will forever be wearing a stunning blue silk dress"
Maisie shook hands with Simon, and bade him good-bye before joining the three nurses standing directly behind her, and doubtless waiting to begin teasing her once again.
C@isie and Iris saw the tents in the distance, a musty afternoon cordite-laden fog lingered overhead, and a heavy ground mist was moving up and around them.
"I'm freezing just looking at that lot, and it's nowhere near winter yet," said Iris.
"I know what you mean. Looks bleak, doesn't it?"
Maisie pulled her cape around her body, though the day was not that cold.
The main tents had giant red crosses painted on top, and beyond were bell tents that were home to the nursing contingent of the casualty clearing station. The ambulance moved slowly along the rutted road, and as they came closer to the encampment, it was clear that they were in the midst of receiving wounded.
The ambulance pulled alongside the officers' tent, where records were kept and orders given. All around them people moved quickly, some shouting, others carrying fresh supplies. Iris and Maisie stepped down and had barely taken up their bags when a sister rushed up to them.