No Place for a Woman

by Val Wood

  The next morning when he arrived at the laboratory, his immediate superior gave him his instructions. He was leaving that night on a troop ship. Although a biomedical scientist, he had specifically asked to serve as a combat medical technician or operator of the mobile X-ray machine in a medical unit attached to the RAMC.

  The use of these machines had been pioneered by Marie Curie and the French, who had been at the forefront of developing the motor-driven units; the intrepid and fearless scientist Marie Curie had driven one of the wagons to the front herself, and by so doing had given Oswald the opportunity to go anywhere to assist and support. This, he’d thought, was his way of serving his country without raising a rifle to kill.

  For quite some time he had worn a badge on his coat lapel to show that he was engaged on important war work, but somehow it didn’t seem enough and he had often felt hostile eyes upon him, especially those of women old enough to be his mother, as if querying why he wasn’t in uniform as their sons were. Now he would be. It had already been issued and was hanging in his wardrobe at his lodgings waiting for him to wear.

  He shook hands with his white-coated colleagues. Some of them thought he was mad, leaving important scientific laboratory work to risk death or injury; his reply was that to learn by knowledge and experience on the battlefield might be more effective than experimenting in a research laboratory. He admitted only to himself that there was another reason.

  He arrived back at his lodgings by lunchtime to change and pack the few belongings he would require, notably the gas respirator, encased in a satchel, several field dressing packs that he put in his breast pockets, warm socks knitted by his mother, handkerchiefs from Eleanor – and something from Lucy; he looked about him and picked up her last letter, though it had arrived several weeks ago.

  He had been provided with a large rucksack for his greatcoat, which he packed as it wasn’t a cold day, and at the last minute he put in a woollen scarf and gloves; winter, he thought, might be back before he was. Finally he dressed in full uniform, putting on vest, shirt, trousers, socks, puttees, and leather boots, then the jacket with the red-cross patches on each shoulder, the leather belt, and last of all the stiffened peaked cap with the badge of the RAMC.

  He opened the wardrobe and looked in the long mirror behind the door and blinked. It wasn’t him. Couldn’t be him. He was the lanky, floppy-haired, myopic boffin. Abstractedly he pushed his spectacles up his nose; this fellow with the shorter haircut – for he’d called into a barber’s shop on his way back – in an itchy khaki uniform and a cap that hid half his forehead was someone he didn’t know, but whom he had seen many times out on the streets, marching in formation with his comrades, whistling or singing patriotic songs to the cheers of flag-flying onlookers.

  Instinctively he straightened his shoulders and lifted his chin, and then, putting his gas satchel over his shoulder and his rucksack on his back, he went downstairs. He’d already paid his rent to the landlady and left her his parents’ address in case of any letters, although what he meant was in case she should hear that anything had happened to him, so he didn’t expect to see her again before he left, but she came out of her room at the end of the hall when she heard his booted footsteps.

  ‘Oh.’ She put her hand to her chest. ‘Dr Thornbury – erm, captain? I hardly recognized you.’

  ‘I don’t recognize myself, Mrs Thompson,’ he admitted. ‘And it will be lieutenant for the moment, although we are not officially given a rank in the RAMC. I’m a medical technician and not carrying arms, but only medical supplies.’

  ‘Oh, that’s good,’ she observed. ‘So we’ll see you back in one piece when this awful war is over?’

  ‘I certainly hope so,’ he said, seeing no point in telling her that anyone out on the battlefields could be at risk of a stray bullet or a dose of gas to choke them to death. ‘If there’s any post—’

  ‘Oh! Yes, a letter came in the afternoon delivery. Here you are.’ She turned to the hall table where a solitary letter was waiting on the polished surface.

  He took it from her and, glancing at the handwriting, put it safely in his pocket to read on the train journey to the ship where he would join his fellow travellers and collect his medical equipment.

  ‘Thank you, Mrs Thompson. I’ve been waiting for this, and hoping it would arrive before I left.’

  He put out his hand to shake hers, but she leaned forward and kissed his cheek. ‘You take great care now,’ she murmured, with a catch in her voice.

  ‘You too, Mrs Thompson,’ he said, moved by her reaction to his departure. ‘No going out dancing on a moonlit night; and head for the pantry if you hear those Zeppelins above you.’

  ‘I will,’ she nodded, as if now guided by someone in authority. She opened the front door for him and he stepped jauntily down the steps to the footpath, hitched the rucksack higher up on his shoulders, and began to whistle.

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  Edie and Milly Thomas rushed to catch the train that was to carry them towards the base hospital close to Boulogne; since moving from Wimereux they had teamed up, nursing sister and staff nurse, to work together in several casualty clearing stations, and recently had spent their leave in a small hotel in Boulogne where they had rested before moving on once more. Boulogne was heaving with military personnel, ambulances and medical aid wagons, both petrol and horse driven, and hundreds of nurses in transit.

  Edie wore the grey woollen dress of QAIMNS with the high white collar and deep cuffs, her sleeves adorned on the lower arm with two scarlet bands signifying a nursing sister. Staff Nurse Thomas was in a similar uniform but with plain sleeves and a badge on her cape to show she was in the TFNS.

  They didn’t expect to stay more than a month at the base hospital; only long enough to give the existing nursing staff a chance of a break from the difficult and draining assignment of caring for the injured. For Edie and her companion it would be a respite from the challenges of a CCS and both felt refreshed after their stay in Boulogne.

  On leaving the train they were put on board an army truck and driven by a cheerful driver who told them something about the hospital, which was situated in a chateau. ‘Lovely, it is, the building I mean; you’d need plenty of money to be able to afford to buy it.’

  ‘Where do you think the owners have gone?’ Milly asked him.

  ‘Dunno,’ he said. ‘But I reckon they saw the signs of war coming and got out whilst they could. It’s made a good hospital anyway, and is run really well by the RAMC and QAIMNS. I took a couple of women doctors there a while back. One was a bit spiky, but the other one, younger she was, was a right cracker. I thought she might be put off by what she’d see but she’s still there. I’ve seen her a few times since, when I’ve dropped off other medical staff.’

  ‘She obviously made an impression on you,’ Milly giggled, and the driver winked.

  ‘Too classy for the likes o’ me,’ he admitted.

  ‘What did she look like?’ Edie asked.

  ‘Aw, right pretty. Dark hair, sweet face. Nice, too, I should think. She asked my name when I dropped them off and she remembered it when I last saw her out on the lawns.’

  Edie smiled. ‘Did she tell you hers?’

  ‘No she didn’t and I didn’t like to ask. Wish I had,’ he said regretfully. ‘Mebbe I’ll ask one of the nurses next time I come.’

  ‘Is this your regular job?’

  ‘Aye, bringing staff in or taking them on elsewhere. I was invalided out of my regiment; got injured in the first couple of weeks after coming over. Took a bullet that smashed up my leg. I was that mad to be missing it that as soon as I was able to move about I asked to come back, said I’d do anything that didn’t involve too much walking. So here I am!’

  ‘Good for you,’ they both said. ‘Well done!’

  They were both impressed not only by the beautiful chateau but by the apparently well organized array of hospital tents on the front lawns. Edie sought out the matron and reported them both for duty
, and an orderly took them up to the two top-floor rooms that they’d be sharing with other sisters and staff nurses.

  In Edie’s room there were three beds, two already occupied, one by clean laundry and the other by a sleeping nurse who had kept on her uniform but taken off her cap and let her hair down.

  Edie tiptoed to the single bed by the window and placed her bag on it. There was a washbasin against the wall and she washed her hands and face, brushed her hair, put on her white cap and apron and silently left the room. She knew how important sleep was when you were too tired to finish undressing before falling asleep.

  As she came down the flight of stairs to the first floor a door opened and she automatically looked towards it. It was Lucy!

  They both gasped and rushed towards each other, gathering one another up in a great embrace.

  ‘Oh, Edie!’ Lucy cried. ‘I’ve been hoping and longing that we’d meet. I’m going for something to eat. Can you come too, or are you on duty?’

  ‘Matron said we can eat first seeing as we’ve been travelling. I don’t have to be on the wards until six.’

  ‘Oh, good! I want to know all about where you’ve been and who you’re with. You said “we”. Are you with a unit?’

  ‘I go wherever I’m needed,’ Edie said. ‘Wherever there’s an emergency and nurses are required. I’ve made friends with a staff nurse with TFNS; she’s very cheerful and we work well together. We’ve been all over, Lucy, I can’t believe how far we’ve travelled and yet remained in France. You know I was in Wimereux to begin with? They were given orders to close; can’t think why, because there’s such a desperate need for hospital beds and nurses.’

  They went into the refectory for an early supper. ‘Is it all right for us to eat together?’ Edie asked. ‘In some of ’hospitals doctors and nurses eat separately.’

  Lucy shrugged. ‘Don’t know, but don’t care either. We’ll eat together, Edie. Why not?’

  ‘I don’t care either,’ Edie laughed. ‘Oh, it’s so good to see you, Lucy. It’s been so long!’

  When they sat down again with their food, Edie went on, ‘From Wimereux I first went to Villeneuve-St-Georges; it’s a railway junction close to Paris and there are some very large railway sheds, and it was there that I got my first taste of what war was really like. The sheds were filled with beds and sick and dying men. We were only allowed to work for three months and then had to take an enforced break. But then I was asked if I’d move on and Milly came too, to a church somewhere near Versailles, and then we went on again to an abandoned school; it seemed that wherever there was an empty space it was filled up with beds ready for the next battle and the injured.’ She shook her head and closed her eyes for a second. ‘It’s a living nightmare, Lucy,’ she said with a break in her voice, ‘and I dread each day that one of those injured might be one or both of my brothers.’

  Lucy listened quietly, and then said, ‘These are the casualty clearing stations you’re talking about, are they not?’ When Edie nodded in reply, Lucy lowered her voice. ‘When you go again, Edie, I’m coming with you.’

  Lucy had decided some weeks ago that it was time for her to move on. It wasn’t that the work here wasn’t important. It was. It was one of the busiest and most efficient of base hospitals. Doctors Rose, Rutherford and Lawson were all senior to her in age as well as experience, and soon Dr Howard would be returning, and as many of the sisters and staff nurses were skilled and qualified in surgery procedure, Lucy increasingly found herself doing the rounds of men in recovery. Which was all good and worthwhile, she thought, but she needed to gain more experience in theatre work and for this she felt that she should move to a casualty clearing station. When she had mentioned this to Rose, she had realized by her reply that Rose had found her niche here and would be reluctant to leave.

  After supper with Edie, she was introduced to Milly; they remembered each other in spite of the years in between.

  ‘We met on a train to London!’ Lucy said. ‘You were hoping to be a governess or a school teacher and I was going to an interview.’

  ‘Yes,’ Milly agreed. ‘And I don’t suppose you’ll recall, Dr Thornbury, but that day I was on my way to see my uncle to ask if he could help my mother out financially, and he said no, he couldn’t; so I got work in a shop and brought in a small amount of money and was still able to help Mother when she wasn’t very well.’ She looked sad for a moment. ‘She got worse over the following year and eventually died, but my brother managed to get me a grant and I began a nursing course.’

  ‘I’m so pleased that everything worked out for you after all,’ Lucy murmured. ‘But very sorry about your mother.’

  She went along to speak to Major Dobson after Edie and Milly had left to go on the wards, and made it clear to him that she would like her name to be put forward for transferral to a casualty clearing station. He seemed anxious, rubbing his hand over his chin and glancing frequently at a dossier on his desk.

  He cleared his throat. ‘You will be aware, Dr Thornbury, that there was a large-scale German attack on the Verdun front at the beginning of the year, with many British casualties. We had only a capful of those who were injured; I believe you and Dr Mason had arrived the previous day?’

  Lucy nodded. She had never seen such a huge number of injured soldiers arriving in carts, wagons and lorries, all desperately in need of urgent attention, and they were the lucky ones.

  He looked at her closely. ‘The British Fourth Army has taken over the battle plan on the Somme river, and although I cannot reveal more to you I can say that more doctors and nurses will be needed there before this summer is out.’ He sighed. ‘You won’t like it when I say that you are young, Dr Thornbury, but there is great danger involved in working in a CCS, so much nearer to the front than we are now—’

  ‘Am I in greater danger because of my youth than the older doctors or nurses?’ she interrupted.

  ‘Mm, well, no,’ he agreed with a slight smile. ‘I don’t suppose the enemy would target you specifically, but I feel I should warn you.’

  ‘I know a nurse younger than me who has already worked in several casualty stations and has lived to tell the tale.’ She was thinking of Staff Nurse Milly Thomas. ‘I’m almost twenty-three,’ she told him. ‘A responsible adult and an experienced doctor.’

  He sighed again. ‘Very well. I’ll add your name to the list. There will be a group of medical personnel going out in a matter of weeks to set up the stations.’

  ‘Thank you.’ She gave him a big smile. ‘Where will we be going?’

  He shook his head. ‘That, I’m afraid, I can’t disclose. But you will be informed.’

  ‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘Thank you very much.’

  All she had to do now, she thought, was to inform Rose. She wondered if she would be displeased.

  Oswald had located the X-ray equipment, which had been safely locked in a shed at the embarkation port along with the army vehicle that would house it. The vehicle had been stripped out in readiness and he was able to say what he would require: a narrow bed for the patient, a screen to protect the injured from curious eyes, a neck collar to hold the head still for head and skull injuries, rubber protective aprons for the operatives, a large space to contain the machine and, most important of all, a dynamo to attach to the motor’s engine to power it.

  He had been allocated an army driver, experienced in motors and electrical equipment, and within a few days of landing in France they would be arriving at the first casualty clearing station and setting up in readiness for the expected injured once further battles commenced. Oswald’s role was to identify shrapnel and shattered bullet fragments that might create infection and subsequent death and pass on the information to the surgeon, thus saving the lives of many. The pity was, Oswald considered as he surveyed the neat unit, that there were very few of these life-saving machines and so many hospitals crying out for them. Nevertheless, he thought, we must do what we can.

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

  Jul
y 1916

  Had anyone had the time or inclination or even the courage to put an ear to the ground beneath them they would have felt and heard the ground of France shake. The heavy tread of thousands of boots, the rumble of wagons, the stamp and plod of horses’ hooves turned the once quiet meadows and peaceful river banks into a quivering mass of mud as opposing armies gathered on each side of the River Somme for what was becoming known as the Big Push or the Somme Offensive.

  1916 had been a terrible year and it was only halfway through. There had been much headshaking as if to say that life was bad enough without the news of the Irish uprising outside Dublin’s General Post Office during March; in May came the devastating news of the battle of Jutland in which both the Royal Navy and the German navy claimed victory, both with the loss of thousands of lives.

  Lucy had arrived at a casualty clearing station just outside the town of Albert in northern France, replacing one of the doctors who had gone back to England on sick leave, and was delighted to find that Edie and Milly were also there. It was a large unit, mostly tented and adjacent to a church hall that had been requisitioned by the British army. A large contingent of English doctors and nurses were already busy with casualties from the spring offensive on the Somme battlefield behind the British and French line.

  Here, no one questioned her age or said she was young, though she felt that some of the older male doctors looked at her sceptically and spoke condescendingly and she knew she would have to prove her worth; most of the medical staff were exhausted by the demands made on them and were just pleased that others were coming in to help relieve the situation which, Lucy gathered from the rumours that were flying around and the thousands of marching troops she had seen for herself, was going to become very much worse.

  The explosions began before dawn on the first day of July and Lucy was awakened from a deep sleep in which she dreamed again that she was on a train. The deafening crashes, blasts and detonations were much worse than she remembered them and she cowered like a child again between the sheets. Then she remembered where she was and that she was safe, but that there would be others who were not. Daylight began to light up the canvas of the tent she shared with another doctor. She slid out of her camp bed and poured water from a bucket into a bowl to quickly swill her hands and face before she dressed. Her companion was still sleeping and she gently shook her shoulder before unfastening the door flap and stepping outside.