The Furies

by Irving McCabe

  As Elspeth ran through the entrance and stood for a moment on the steps leading down to the courtyard, she saw that dusk had already fallen. There was a strong odour of burnt explosive in the air – similar to the smell of fireworks on Guy Fawkes night – and even in the gloom she could see several columns of white smoke on the horizon. Further smoke-trails were scudding past the outline of a three-quarter moon above her head. There was steam on her breath and the evening air felt cold as she hugged the surgical gown tighter around her body and walked down into the courtyard.

  Bathed in soft moonlight ahead of her was the hospital’s ambulance, the outline of Vera in the driver’s seat dimly visible through the cab window. Huber was crouched in front of the radiator, energetically cranking the vehicle’s starting handle: the engine of the ambulance suddenly came to life with a throaty roar. Smoke sputtered from the exhaust and the headlights flooded the courtyard with light.

  And now Elspeth saw Sylvia at the back of the ambulance, pushing with both hands at doors that did not seem to want to close. Elspeth hurried towards her, and, adding her own weight against the doors, forced them shut and allowed Sylvia to fasten and lock them together.

  ‘Thanks,’ Sylvia shouted above the noise of the vehicle’s broken exhaust. ‘It’s like trying to close a jack-in-the-box.’

  ‘How much stuff have you got in there?’ Elspeth shouted back.

  ‘As much medical equipment and supplies as we could squeeze in.’ Sylvia rattled the handle to make certain it was locked and then walked Elspeth around the side of the ambulance, where it was less noisy. ‘But there’s still space in the driver’s cab. Come with us, Ellie. It’ll be fun, all of us together.’

  ‘I hardly think a night drive with the German army on your heels could be described as “fun”.’

  ‘Alright…how about “exciting”, then.’

  Elspeth gave a wry smile. ‘I think I’ll take the train. Dr Inglis is still uneasy about leaving our patients, so I want to make sure she gets to the station on time.’

  ‘Well, just make sure you do,’ Sylvia said, opening the door.

  ‘We will, and probably get to Krusevac before you.’ Elspeth said, glancing through the school gates into the street outside, where a column of refugees and wagons were trundling past. ‘I think you’ll find it slow going on the roads. I’ll get the samovar going and have hot cocoa waiting for when you arrive.’

  Sylvia smiled, leant forward to give Elspeth a hug and climbed into the cab. Elspeth walked around to the driver’s side and, leaning through the window, gave Vera a farewell peck on her cheek. Huber held the gates to the schoolyard open as the heavily laden vehicle began to move forward, belching exhaust fumes as it rolled and swayed out into the street. With blasts of the motor-horn the ambulance cleared a space in the column of refugees and Elspeth waved at it; Sylvia’s head appeared through the passenger-side window to wave back at her before the vehicle was lost to view in the mass of evacuees.

  ‘Maybe you should have gone with them?’ Huber said, a concerned look on his face as they both walked back towards the school building.

  ‘Don’t worry; I’m going with Dr Inglis—’ She was interrupted by a volley of nearby rifle-fire that echoed through the courtyard.

  Huber’s expression became even more troubled. ‘Then you must please hurry. It is not safe on the streets.’

  As she ran up the steps to the entrance, she almost collided with Dr Inglis, who was coming out.

  ‘Ah there you are, Elspeth. Lillian’s gone over to the villa to fetch our bags. All the VADs and nurses have gone to the station. As soon as Lillian’s back we’ll join them—’

  At that moment the sudden clatter of metal-rimmed wheels on cobblestones swamped her words, and Elspeth turned to see an ox wagon trundle through the schoolyard gate and stop beside Huber. The driver, a small boy wearing a uniform several sizes bigger than him, was pointing in the back of the wagon and Elspeth hurried back down the steps: lying on the floor of the cart – the wood planking awash with blood – were three badly wounded soldiers. The men were alive, but all three were pale and semi-conscious.

  ‘Dear Lord,’ said Dr Inglis, who had followed Elspeth across the courtyard and was gripping the edge of the wagon, a look of anguished concern on her face as she studied the casualties. ‘Look, I’m sorry, Elspeth, but I just can’t leave them to suffer. You and Lillian should go, but I’m staying. Huber can anaesthetise for me—’

  But Elspeth was already looking at her pocket watch. ‘And I’m staying as well,’ she said, closing the lid with a snap. ‘If we’re quick, we can still get to the station in time.’ Before Dr Inglis could answer, Elspeth was already halfway up the steps. ‘Have them taken straight up to theatre, Huber,’ she shouted as she dashed through the entrance door.

  The casualties were carried up to the operating theatre; once they were there Huber administered the ether and Elspeth and Dr Inglis began to operate. By eight o’clock they had finished the first two cases: a soldier with a sucking chest wound, and another requiring an emergency amputation. But just as they were about to start the last case, the door to the theatre swung open and Lillian Chesney appeared, accompanied by the last two remaining Serbian guards and one of the Austrian orderlies.

  ‘I can’t believe you’re still here, Elsie,’ she said, a shocked expression on her face. ‘We must leave immediately. The guards won’t wait any longer and German patrols have been seen only a few streets away.’

  ‘I have to finish this last case, Lillian,’ Dr Inglis replied as she retied her surgical mask. ‘Dr Bayer hasn’t appeared yet and I can’t just go—’

  ‘But you are the hospital’s chief medical officer, Elsie.’ Elspeth could hear the exasperation in Dr Chesney’s voice. ‘What is needed now is your skill as a leader, not as a surgeon.’

  Dr Inglis hesitated, but then lowered the surgical mask. ‘But, Lillian—’

  ‘Our priority must be the safety of our volunteers.’ Dr Chesney persisted. ‘And as the head of the unit, you must be with it at this critical time.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘There are no “buts” about it, Elsie: we have a duty to the women of this hospital, as well as the patients we serve.’

  ‘I agree with Lillian.’ Elspeth now found herself saying.

  ‘Thank goodness one of you is thinking clearly,’ said Dr Chesney.

  ‘You must go, Elsie,’ Elspeth continued and then turned to Dr Chesney ‘In fact you should both go and lead the evacuation to Krusevac. I’ll stay and finish this last case and then meet you at the station.’

  As she said the words, Elspeth knew she would be taking a risk, but it felt like the right decision for the group: plus, this was the only way Dr Inglis might be persuaded to leave.

  ‘Anyway, Captain Bayer will probably arrive at any moment,’ Elspeth continued, ‘and I’ll join you as soon as he gets here.’

  ‘And what if he’s late and you miss the train?’ Dr Inglis said.

  ‘Well, if we stand here debating, then it’s certain all three of us will miss it,’ Elspeth replied. ‘And the unit cannot function without you or Lillian as its leader, Elsie.’

  There was a moment’s silence. Then Dr Inglis stepped away from the table and peeled off her gloves. ‘Alright, I’ll do as you suggest.’ She untied her gown and followed Dr Chesney and the Serbian guards to the door. The Austrian orderly stepped aside to let them pass, but Dr Inglis paused in the doorway. ‘Huber should administer the anaesthetic, and this orderly can help with the instruments—’

  ‘I’ll be fine, Elsie,’ Elspeth interrupted. ‘Just go. I’ll see you at the station.’ Dr Inglis hesitated, nodded, and quickly left the room, the Austrian orderly closing the door behind her.

  The operating theatre was quiet again as Elspeth – pushing all thoughts of the last train from her mind – focussed on the final patient, a Serbian major with a depressed fracture of the back of his skull. Pressing on the boggy, broken skin of his scalp, she could see a large piec
e of skull bone had been pushed into the occipital lobes – the rear part of the brain, which controlled vision – and by waving her fingers in front of his face she quickly determined that he was blind. In order to save his eyesight she would need to lift the depressed bone. But that was not the priority, because when she unwrapped a bloodstained dressing tied underneath his jaw, a jet of blood spurted from a large wound in the left side of his neck. She looked at Huber.

  ‘Right: we’ll use chloroform this time.’ She turned to the other orderly. ‘And you,’ she said, ‘put some gloves on, apply pressure here, and hand me those instruments when I ask for them…’

  ***

  A short distance away in the First Reserve Hospital, Gabriel finally finished operating and checked the time. Damn! It was eight o’clock and he knew from the messenger who had arrived earlier on that Dr Inglis was relying on him to provide cover for her patients. Quickly he stripped off his surgical gown, threw his army greatcoat over his jacket, and hurried towards the main entrance.

  The hospital corridors were deserted, as Dmitri and the rest of the Serbian staff had left for the railway station two hours earlier while Gabriel, assisted by the other Austrian orderlies, had finished off the remaining surgical work for the day. Hurrying outside, Gabriel saw that the night sky was peppered with sharp points of luminosity, the soft radiance from the low moon insufficient to hide the light of the stars. As he carefully picked his way along the rubble-strewn pavement towards the women’s hospital, a rifle shot made him flinch and the flash of a flare shell lit up the street. He ducked into an alleyway and waited for the artificial daylight to fade; then waited a moment longer for his night vision to return. From a nearby street he heard shouting, the crack of a gunshot, a scream, an answering volley of rifle shots, then silence. He waited a moment longer and finally, cautiously, slipped back into the street.

  The darkness made him more reliant on his hearing and as he was about to climb over a low brick wall he heard the crunch of a boot on broken glass, followed by a soft cursing in a language he could not determine. He hid behind the wall and held his breath: a few seconds later he heard the slow careful footsteps of people trying not to make any noise. He waited for the footsteps to pass and then raised his head to cautiously peer over the wall.

  Four soldiers, each man wearing a spiked khaki-covered steel helmet, were moving away from him along the street. He watched them disappear from view and then moved on again.

  A few streets later he heard more noise and hid in another alleyway. From within the alley’s shadow he saw several rifle-wielding Chetniks, sheepskin jerkins and ammunition bandoliers slung across their chest, the flash of reflected moonlight on a knife in a belt. He knew they would kill him without hesitation if they saw him, so he waited until they had passed, then carried on in this fashion, hurrying from street to street, dodging from building to building, hiding until he was certain it was safe to continue. His back and legs ached with the tension of running and crouching, but finally the outer wall of the Scottish Women’s Hospital came into view and he sprinted the last few metres and arrived, breathing heavily, at the gates.

  He slid into the central courtyard. It was deserted apart from an empty wagon, the floorboards stained with blood, two exhausted oxen gazing at him with sad brown eyes. He ran up the steps and through the door. At first he didn’t see anybody: good, he thought, the women must all be at the station by now. But as he reached the staircase to the first floor he heard a cheery Austrian drinking song. Looking up the stairs, Gabriel saw two swaying Austrian orderlies, arms around each other’s shoulders, one of them holding a bottle of surgical spirits in his hands while the other held onto the bannister.

  ‘It’s Captain Bayer!’ the one holding the bottle said; then he pulled away from his comrade and raised his arms in welcome. ‘Have a drink – celebrate our freedom!’

  Gabriel took a deep breath, struggling to contain his anger at the sight of these drunkards. ‘Have all the women left for the station?’ he asked, ignoring the bottle waved in front of his face

  ‘Yes, Captain…’ the man tried to stifle a giggle, ‘they’ve all gone.’ He rocked from side to side. ‘The Serb guards have gone…and the women have gone…except for—’ He toppled back onto the staircase and burst into laughter.

  ‘Except for who?’ Gabriel demanded, but the man was unable to reply through laughing. The other orderly pointed up the staircase, towards the operating theatre.

  ‘Dr Stewart…’ he said, and then also collapsed into laughter.

  Elspeth? Gabriel hurried up the staircase and along the corridor. As he arrived at the door to the theatre it swung open and an Austrian orderly wearing gloves and a bloodstained white smock appeared.

  ‘Thank God you’re here, Captain,’ he said. ‘We’ve told Dr Stewart to go or she’ll miss her train—’

  But Gabriel was already pushing past him. Entering the room he saw Elspeth stooped over the operating table, carefully placing a stitch in a deep gash in the patient’s neck. Huber was at the patient’s head, holding a mask over the man’s face, tilting the man’s neck to one side to allow Elspeth better access to the wound. Sweet Jesus, thought Gabriel, what on earth was she still doing here? Feeling a strong urge to go up to her, grip her by the arms and shake some sense into her, he nevertheless managed to control himself and went up to the table, dropped his head to her eye level, and waited for her to notice him. After a moment she lifted her head and her gaze latched onto him. She looked at him for a moment and then her brow furrowed with concentration as she dipped her head and began to insert another stitch. Gabriel turned and glared at Huber, who had an expression of pained resignation on his face.

  ‘I’m sorry, sir,’ he whispered to Gabriel. ‘I’ve tried to make her go, but you know how stubborn she can be—’

  ‘Careful, Huber,’ Elspeth said, without lifting her head as she placed the final suture. ‘My German may not be perfect, but it’s good enough for me to understand most of what you say.’

  Gabriel watched Elspeth tie the suture and snip the ends off. Then she straightened up and pulled down her surgical mask

  ‘Well, hello, Dr Bayer,’ she said, as if she had only just noticed him. ‘I must say we were expecting you to arrive a little earlier—’

  ‘Elspeth, please.’ His voice was gentle but urging. ‘If you’re to catch the train, you must leave now’ – and then, remembering the danger of the journey he had just undertaken, he added – ‘or maybe you should stay and accept being taken prisoner—’

  ‘It’s alright, Gabriel.’ Her voice was calm. ‘I know what I must do. I’m going to finish this as quickly as I can, then I’ll hurry across to the station to try and make the train. And if I miss it…well then, I’ll accept my fate and hand myself over to the Germans when they arrive.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘No.’ She help up a gloved hand in front of his face, a pair of suture forceps poised delicately between thumb and forefinger. ‘I’ve made my decision. Now, you can either help me, or delay me further by arguing. Which is it going to be?’

  He sighed. Then he quickly slipped out of his greatcoat, walked across to the scrub bench at the side of the room, and pulled on a pair of rubber gloves. And as he walked back to the operating table, Huber looked at him and shrugged his shoulders as if to say: see what I mean?

  ***

  It took them ten minutes to finish. Gabriel watched Elspeth dissect the skin wound over the skull fracture, and then with his help she peeled back a flap of scalp to reveal the underlying bone. A piece of metal shell casing was lodged in the depressed skull fragment, and grasping it with a forceps she used it as a shrapnel handle to lever the bone upwards. Underneath the bone there was a blood clot, which Gabriel washed out with saline to reveal the membranes surrounding the brain: excellent, he thought; they did not appear to have been breached. The contours and grooves of the brain looked healthily pink and shiny, with only one area of redness where the depressed bone had caused a minor contus
ion. Elspeth prised the piece of shrapnel out of the bone fragment and then – like fitting a last piece of jigsaw – she anchored the fragment in place, level with the surrounding skull. Huber had used up the last of the chloroform and the soldier began to wake as they placed the final stitches. It was satisfying for Gabriel to hear the soldier accurately count the number of fingers that he held up in front of his eyes.

  As Gabriel peeled off his gloves, he saw Elspeth hurry over to Huber. The old Austrian sergeant put his hand out for her to shake, but she ignored it and instead put her arms around him and pulled him forward into a hug. As they parted, Gabriel saw tears in the eyes of the veteran soldier.

  ‘Please be careful, Dr Stewart,’ Huber said, ‘you are like a daughter to me.’

  She nodded and then went to fetch her coat and cape. Watching her, Gabriel felt a knot of tension build in his stomach.

  ‘Elspeth, I think it’s too dangerous—’

  ‘I’d rather not fall into German hands if I can,’ she interuppted, fastening her cape as she waited by the door. ‘But you don’t have to come with me if you don’t want to.’

  He put his greatcoat back on and crossed to her. ‘How could you even think I would let you go out there on your own?’

  ‘I hoped you would say that,’ she replied with a smile.

  ***

  Elspeth’s sense of duty to her patients was so strong, that when she made her decision to stay and operate on the last case she hadn’t worried whether she would make the train or not, hadn’t fully considered all the consequences of her decision. But now, as she and Gabriel ran through the gates and out into the street, she felt the first stirrings of worry at the position she had placed them both in, because the sounds of fighting were now very loud. A distant volley of gun-fire echoed through the darkness and she began to feel guilty that Gabriel had felt obliged to accompany her. At the same time she was glad he was by her side, holding her hand as they hurried through the unlit streets towards the station.