Brave Faces

by Mary Arden

  We went outside into the garden and sat down next to each other on a bench, which I noticed had been donated by a grateful relative of a former patient.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ the nurse said kindly, ‘I get upset too, especially when a patient arrives with his body so badly charred that you wonder how he can still be alive. If Mr McIndoe takes you into one of the intensive care wards and you feel faint, you must tell him at once, he’ll understand. He’s one of the most compassionate men I’ve ever known. It’s an honour to work for him.’

  The nurse then asked me how it was that I knew Mr McIndoe, so I explained how my family had met his while we were on holiday in France, and how my parents had kept up the friendship over the years. ‘It’s been a few years since I last saw him,’ I continued, ‘and I was hoping that I can train to be one of the nurses here.’

  ‘I hope you don’t mind me saying so,’ the nurse said, ‘but to be honest with you, its very hard work here and physically challenging, so I think you might be a bit too frail and I can’t really see you lifting one of those heavy boys onto a bedpan. Can you?’

  ‘No, perhaps you are right,’ I agreed, ‘But I could still do dressings and things like that, and I’m very good at scrubbing floors, carrying trays and sterilising instruments.’

  ‘I am sure you are, but I don’t think it would be appropriate for a friend of Mr McIndoe’s to be seen scrubbing floors!’ She then looked at her watch, and asked me what I was doing for lunch, ‘Would you like to have lunch with the young RAF pilots in their mess? I think it would be very good for their morale if you could.’

  When we went into the mess, I could see a group of young men sitting at the tables; some of them had one of their arms grafted to their face. I wondered whether I would be able to get through lunch without making it obvious that I was horrified by their appearance. Then I wondered how I would have coped if Charles hadn’t died but had been terribly burned like this, would I have still loved him? Of course I would, but would I have been able to look at him in the same way and wanted him to kiss me? He would be the same person after all, just a disfigured version of the man I was in love with. I wasn’t sure that I wanted to hear the answer to that question right now, so instead I took a deep breath and went to sit down next to a group of men that were drinking beer together.

  ‘Good morning, my name is Mary,’ I said putting on my best smile.

  The men then all introduced themselves and within minutes they were offering to buy me a gin and lime, a glass of wine, or a beer. I managed to politely turn down the alcohol but added that I wouldn’t say no to a fizzy drink.

  ‘I wouldn’t say no to you!’ one of the men chuckled, and then another man whose eyes were covered by a bandage asked, ‘Why, is she pretty?’

  The first man then told him, ‘Well I will describe her for you Jack: she is about six foot tall, has a huge tummy and she’s completely bald!’

  They all laughed, but Jack had the last laugh when he said, ‘I think you must be looking in the mirror Freddy!’

  One of the other men then called out loudly, ‘Nurse come and hold my hand,’ and another quipped back ‘But you haven’t got a hand anymore you fool, it’s grafted to your bum!’

  ‘How can you tell?’ one of the others joked. ‘They both look the same!’

  As we ate lunch together, I started to feel more relaxed in the company of these men, who I thought were more like schoolboys than grown men, and I couldn’t help but admire them. I then noticed that Uncle Archie was standing in the doorway watching me, and smiling.

  After lunch was over, Uncle Archie took me to see some of the more seriously injured patients, and as I accompanied him from bed to bed, I was aware that he was keeping a careful eye on me to ensure that I wasn’t about to faint, or burst into tears.

  When we got back to his office, he said, ‘Now Mary, you’ve seen a little of what the nurses have to do here every day. Do you think you’re up to it?’

  I replied that I didn’t think I’d be much help doing the heavy work like bathing and lifting, but that I was more than willing to learn how to change dressings and accompany patients for saline baths, which I knew many of the patients had to bathe in for long periods of time to heal their wounds.

  ‘The trouble is that you can’t pick and choose the work you do here,’ Uncle Archie said and then he told me that he’d been observing me to assess my reaction to his patients, and also to see what the boys’ reaction would be to me and while many of the men were only teasing and having a bit of fun, there were one or two that he’d noticed looking at me with longing in their eyes. He then went on to describe that recently the hospital had identified a problem with some of the patients falling in love with the younger nurses. Some of these nurses had boyfriends, and when they told the lovesick patients that they were already taken, the men didn’t believe them and thought that they were lying because of their disfigurements.

  ‘These kind of incidents have been affecting the men’s mental wellbeing, so I am now considering recruiting older nurses, with more experience, rather than younger prettier nurses, like you,’ he explained and then continued, ‘Can you imagine how these young men might respond if you were asked to sponge them down in very personal places?’

  I blushed but Uncle Archie continued, ‘Yes exactly! And that would embarrass you and it wouldn’t be fair on the boys either.’ He sat back and said, ‘I am sorry Mary, but sadly, I am going to have to turn you down.’

  Then after a moment’s pause he said, ‘Perhaps instead of working here, where there is sadness and despair and, sadly, death very often, have you thought about working in a completely different area of war work, such as one of the Armed Services?’

  I laughed and replied, ‘What, like, join the Navy and see the world?’

  Uncle Archie smiled and said, ‘Why not? I’ve heard that the Wrens are very well respected and a very suitable Service for a girl like you, and I think you’d look delightful in a Wren’s uniform and three cornered hat!’

  ‘I’ll talk to my parents about it,’ I assured him.

  On the journey home, I told my mother everything that I had seen at the hospital that day, and how it had affected me. ‘I thought I could cope when I saw the first few patients, but when Uncle Archie took me to the admissions ward and I saw the state of the men that had just been brought in, I almost fainted. Some of them were so badly burnt that they looked like over-cooked sausages on a campfire. How they survived I can’t imagine, and I suppose some of them won’t. I don’t think I could cope being a nurse in that sort of hospital after all, Mummy. I’m sorry.’

  My mother just put her hand on my knee and we continued the rest of the way home in silence.

  I felt a little ashamed that I had given in so easily, but also knew my limitations and that I just didn’t have what it takes to be able to nurse those poor men day after day. Perhaps nursing wasn’t my vocation after all and I should consider Uncle Archie’s idea of joining the Wrens more seriously. I’d think about it.

  After dinner that evening, I asked my father whether he could find out what qualifications I would need to join the Wrens. He promised me that he’d find out, as soon as he had a spare moment at the office.

  The next day I went to see Kay, who was now eight months pregnant with her second child, to ask her what she thought about the idea of me joining the Wrens.

  ‘I think it would be an adventure!’ she said, while preparing Richard’s lunch. ‘You’d have the opportunity to do something different, meet new people and maybe see more of England too.’

  I felt encouraged by her enthusiasm and was just starting to get excited about the idea of becoming a Wren, when she said, ‘Mary I know I am not your governess anymore, but I feel that I should give you some advice as your friend.’

  I looked at her without saying anything, wondering what she had to say.

  ‘You have had a very sheltered life up until now, and been very privileged too, but when you leave home, which in my opinion, b
y the way, it is about time you did, you will have to learn to make your own decisions and stand on your own two feet. It won’t be easy for you, but somehow you must make your own way in life now, and not come running home every time things go wrong for you.’

  I didn’t know what to say, so said nothing and just nodded.

  On the way home, I thought about what Kay had said and decided that the time had come to stop ‘talking’ about doing something more worthy for the war effort and to actually do it.

  The next day I applied to join the Wrens, and received a letter back two days later inviting me to come to London, to see whether I was a suitable candidate, and the envelope also contained some forms I had to fill in.

  Looking carefully down the list of categories that were open for Wrens, it seemed that all the interesting sounding jobs, like plane spotting, were for Officers only, and then I saw that you had to be over twenty-one to request a commission, so I went through the list to see what other jobs were available. I could be a typist, I thought, but I would have to learn to type much faster than I could at present and learn shorthand too, so that didn’t sound much fun; I could be a driver, but then I would have to learn to drive, which I was happy to do but that would take time, and what would I do if I failed my test? And then something a bit more interesting caught my attention: ‘Girls wanted as Boat Crew’.

  I thought that my mother would be happy about the idea of me being ‘Boat Crew’, as long as I wasn’t expected to sleep on a yacht with any men I hadn’t been formally introduced to!

  ‘I doubt that it will be on a yacht, my dear,’ my father laughed, ‘it’s more likely that you would be part of a crew on something more like a lifeboat, or a liberty boat,’ he explained, hiding a smile.

  The next morning I posted the forms back, and then put it out of my mind, as it was William’s half term and I’d promised to take him to the cinema that afternoon. When we arrived, the usual Pathe News was showing before the main film began. I watched transfixed when a news item about the Wrens appeared, showing some of the girls marching up and down on parade. I noticed that nearly all the girls were wearing an ugly pudding-basin hat, which was similar to the one I’d worn at school. However, two of the Wrens looked very smart, and wore a well-fitting coat and a three-corner Nelson-style hat, so I decided that if I were accepted into the Wrens, I would wear the Nelson-style hat, as is so much more fetching, and if I tilted it on one side it might even look quite fashionable!

  On the way home, William, who was top of his class in Maths at school, explained that if I were accepted into the Wrens, my pay would be less than a pound a week.

  ‘Your wage,’ he pointed out persuasively ‘will be less than what Mummy pays Pansy. It’ll be like slave labour, so the sooner you become an Officer the better.’

  I told William that I wasn’t joining up for the money, but that I was doing it to be useful and to help win the war.

  ‘Well you can’t be much help if you are broke and go into debt,’ William said seriously, ‘I think you should ask Daddy to teach you how to look after your money.’

  The next morning, before my father went to London, I asked him if he would teach me some basic bookkeeping, which he said he’d be happy to do but that it would be a good idea if we also went to his bank one day later in the week, so that he could get the Head clerk to explain a few things to me, such as how the interest rates affected my accounts.

  When we went to the bank, my father had a chat with the manager, who was an old friend of his, and I was left in a small room with the Head Clerk, who opened a folder and handed me a piece of paper.

  ‘Gosh,’ I exclaimed, when I saw the amount I had sitting in my account. ‘I have nearly twenty pounds. That’s oodles of money!’

  The Head Clerk patiently pointed out that the reason I had ‘oodles of money’, was because my father had recently put the money into my account, and I hadn’t drawn anything out of it yet.

  ‘No doubt, until now, your parents have taken the responsibility of paying for everything for you,’ he explained. ‘However, if you are considering leaving home and becoming more independent, you need to understand that it isn’t wise to spend more than you have.’

  The Head Clerk then tried to explain interest rates to me, but seeing that he was fighting a losing battle, soon gave up and just handed me a cheque book, that had my name printed on it, telling me that all I had to do was write down the amount of money I needed, and then sign and date it correctly. Easy Peasy, I thought.

  When I got home, there was another letter waiting for me, which informed me that I was requested to present myself at 11.00 hours in two days time for an interview in London. It gave the details of an address that I didn’t recognise and said that during this interview consideration would be given as to whether or not I was suitable to join the Wrens. I showed the letter to my mother, who after reading it for herself, noticed that I would also be required to have a medical examination.

  ‘Make sure you wear clean under-things, darling, as you may need to strip down to them, and wash your hair and clean your nails,’ she added, ‘you need to give a good first impression.’

  ‘Yes Mummy.’

  ‘Oh, and remember to dust off your shoes before you go in for the interview,’ my mother added.

  So on the day, my father accompanied me to London, to make sure I got to the right place for my interview.

  ‘Now don’t be nervous, darling, just sit up straight and answer all the questions you’re asked politely and as best you can. Oh, and just one more thing, Mary, don’t smile at any of the male naval officers, or chat to them unless they talk to you first, things are a bit different in the Services.’

  ‘Why is that Daddy?’ I asked.

  ‘Discipline, darling,’ he replied. ‘I’m afraid you’ll get a lot of that if you become a Wren.’

  When I got to the address I had been given, I went up some stairs and was met by a rather bossy woman at the reception area who asked me my name, and then handed me a gown and told me to strip to my knickers. What already? I thought, but did as she had instructed.

  To my relief, I was then taken to see a female doctor, who asked me some very personal questions, such as did I have all my own teeth, which infectious diseases had I had, when was the date of my last period and had I had sexual relations recently? I presumed that she meant sex but wasn’t completely sure, so just said ‘No’ hoping that was the right answer.

  The doctor then said, ‘Have you ever had VD?’

  ‘I’m awfully sorry doctor,’ I replied, ‘but I don’t understand the question, is VD a bit like chicken pox?’

  ‘No, not really,’ she said smiling at me, ‘I’ll just put No.’

  I’d had chicken pox when I was younger and had been covered with itchy spots all over my body, not an inch of me was free of them. I knew that you couldn’t get chicken pox twice, but maybe VD was different. I’d call Jane later, perhaps she would know.

  The doctor asked me to slip down the straps of my brassiere.

  ‘I just want to make sure that you don’t have any strange lumps or bumps,’ she explained.

  She then asked me to lie down on the couch and open my legs, explaining that she needed to check that my pelvis was in line. In line with what I wondered? Instead of asking me to remove my knickers, she gently pulled them to one side, which I found most embarrassing.

  ‘Are you still intact?’ the doctor then asked me.

  I had no idea what she meant and told her so. She then explained that she needed to confirm whether I was still a virgin or not, to which I replied that I most definitely was. She then asked me whether I’d ever had a steady boyfriend, to which I replied that I had, but that he’d recently been killed.

  ‘Oh dear, I’m so sorry to hear that, please forgive me, but I have to ask these awkward questions,’ the doctor said kindly. ‘And I’m afraid that I still have to examine you anyway, as part of your medical.’

  I was glad when it was all over, and couldn’
t wait to tell Jane about this weird examination of my most intimate places. I knew she would make some rude remarks about it and we’d end up giggling like schoolgirls again.

  The doctor then stood up, smiled and said, ‘I expect you’re anxious to know my initial thoughts on your health. And although I believe you’re a bit too thin, I’m going to give you a clean bill of health. When you join the Wrens, you will be marching up and down a lot, so I’d like you to try and eat a little more to build up your strength.’

  I got dressed and then went to wait in the reception area for the next stage of my interview. Eventually, when my name was called, I was directed to another room, where I was met by a First Officer and told to discuss the three category choices I’d put down on my form, so that she could work out where I would fit in best.

  I tried desperately to remember what I’d originally written down on the forms: yes, I’d passed School Certificate; no, I hadn’t stayed on at school to do Matriculations; yes, I had been a Girl Guide; yes, I had attended a Finishing School, where I’d learned to speak three languages fluently, turn out a room, bake delicious soufflés, skin rabbits and a lot of other domestic science, as well as touch-typing.

  ‘At a pinch, I suppose you could supervise the other girls who do all the cleaning,’ the First Officer said and then seeing my face fall explained, ‘The problem is that although all the things you’ve learned would be very useful in civilian life, they aren’t going to be very helpful if you’re to join the Wrens. Tell me, Miss Arden, why do you wish to be a Wren?’

  ‘Because I want to do full-time war work, and now that I have ‘Come Out’ that’s all I want to do.’

  ‘‘Come Out’? Of what?’ the uncomprehending First Officer asked, a bit taken aback.

  I couldn’t help but giggle, ‘Oh, you know, as a debutante.’

  ‘Oh I see,’ the First Officer said.

  ‘But I have also been helping out in our local hospital when I can,’ I added.

  The First Officer looked at me in disbelief and then asked to see my hands, which were still a little red and sore, so the First Officer asked me why that was.