Stationary (Base) Hospital in Étaples, France
Phoebe heard a commotion coming from somewhere outside and, leaving her food, ran to see if she might be of any help. She stopped in her tracks when she saw the dishevelled group of soldiers, some carrying others.
‘What’s happened?’ Doctor Parslow called as he joined her, closely followed by Doctor Marshall, Hetty and several orderlies and nurses.
‘Trouble at the Bull Ring,’ one of them replied, clearly distressed by his friend’s head injury and what he had witnessed.
Phoebe had heard of the infamous training grounds in the sand dunes nearby. Soldiers she had treated claimed being at the front was preferable to being in the army base camp. Phoebe had thought it exaggeration but now she wasn’t so sure.
‘I want you two to help take this man through to admissions,’ Doctor Parslow said, pointing to two orderlies. ‘Nurse Robertson, kindly take this gentleman …’ he hesitated, staring past Phoebe as he thought, ‘… and the others who are uninjured for something to eat and drink.’
‘Yes, Doctor Parslow.’
She waited for the injured men to be taken away and then motioned for those waiting behind. ‘Please follow me this way.’
The weary-looking group followed her to the canteen. Phoebe got them each a cup of tea and something to eat then sat with them, curious to know what had happened.
‘How did those men get hurt?’ she asked.
There was a mumbling and several of the soldiers spoke at once, until one of them raised his hand and the others went quiet, allowing him to speak. ‘Trouble broke out on Sunday.’
‘That was three days ago, mate.’
The man, a sandy-haired private who Phoebe assumed could be no older than twenty-five, closed his eyes and shook his head. ‘Was it? So much has happened, I’ve struggled to keep track of time.’
She supposed they were also probably suffering from shock.
‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘I was telling you what happened, wasn’t I?’
‘It’s fine. You don’t have to if you’d rather not.’
‘No, I want to. People should know.’ He took a mouthful of his tea and swallowed. ‘It’s a terrible place and yesterday there was an altercation with one of the New Zealanders. He was arrested.’
Phoebe was horrified. ‘Arrested? What for?’
‘Apparently he tried to bypass the military police pickets at the bridges,’ he explained, his eyes wide. ‘They were there to stop access to Le Touquet.’
Another of the soldiers continued. ‘It’s common knowledge that men visiting the township walked across the mouth of the river when it was low tide. I think, though, that in this chap’s case the tide had come in and so he used the bridge and was caught by one of the Red Caps.’
‘Then he was locked in a cell.’
‘It was disgusting,’ one of the other soldiers added. ‘Uncalled for but typical of that place.’
‘What happened after that?’ she prompted.
‘A crowd amassed and we were all pretty irate by then. They did let him go but there was too much bad feeling by that time.’
‘It’s not the first terrible thing that has happened,’ the other soldier interjected.
‘Nah,’ another chipped in. ‘It was just what lit the flame and set us all off.’
The original private gave them both withering looks and they sat back and focused on their tea and the bowls of soup and bread in front of them. ‘Then we heard shooting.’
Phoebe gasped, horrified.
‘I heard that a corporal was killed,’ the private said. ‘I think a local woman was injured too but I heard she was going to be all right.’
‘How, then, were the men you brought in hurt?’
The private and his companions exchanged glances, seemingly deciding whether or not to tell her. ‘We marched through the town today and …’ he thought for a moment, ‘… there was a riot.’
‘A riot?’
He nodded. ‘It sounds bad but tension has been building since Sunday and it sort of happened.’
‘Your friends were hurt in the rioting then, I imagine?’
He shook his head. ‘No, they brought in cavalry and machine-gun squadrons, and we knew we had run out of any chance to keep going without a lot of us being killed. Everyone began to disperse and we brought those blokes here to be treated.’
‘Nurse Richardson, we need dressing!’ Matron called from the doorway, and Phoebe said a quick farewell to the soldiers and rushed back to her post.
Why hadn’t she given herself more time to grieve, she wondered for the hundredth time since signing up for British Red Cross voluntary aid detachments training that summer. What made her think she was in the right state of mind to focus on anything, having just lost both her parents and her brother Charlie in a Zeppelin attack?
Phoebe felt her lack of steeliness keenly and hated that she wasn’t as good at the job as she had imagined she would be. She should have taken time to consider that her sister Celia was better at being a nurse because she had been qualified for a few years already and it was all she’d ever wanted to do. Whereas Phoebe had been happy working as a kindergarten teacher until the devastation of her brother and parents’ deaths had made her react drastically and change her job to train as a VAD. She had thought it might ease her sense of loss to help care for men worse off than herself near the front line. It hadn’t.
She pushed aside thoughts of her family that she missed so deeply and hurried to deliver the fresh dressing to Matron, unable to take her eyes from the gruesome sight in front of her.
It had been six weeks since her arrival and despite her best efforts, Phoebe was finding it difficult not to regret her hasty decision to come to France. What had she been thinking? If only she could have followed Celia to Jersey where she was now working in that prisoner-of-war camp. Then she would at least have been able to speak to someone about their shared loss. She had misjudged what life here at the base hospital would entail and had even contemplated putting in for a transfer to a hospital back in London. She had never been a quitter though, and so she was going to do her best to stick to this work and try to get used to what was expected of her.
The traumatised soldier cried out in pain as Matron and the nurse in front of Phoebe attempted to redress his badly damaged ankle.
‘Don’t just stand there gawping, Nurse,’ Matron snapped. ‘Make yourself useful and help prepare the new patients for surgery.’
‘Yes, Matron.’ She glanced around her at the bustling ward where a new influx of patients had arrived earlier that morning and spotted a nurse frantically waving for her to join her at a patient’s bedside. ‘Coming.’ She ran over, gritting her teeth when she saw the state of the young man lying on the bloodied bed, his eyes wide with fear as he turned his gaze towards her.
The nurse grabbed Phoebe’s wrist and pulled her hand to the soldier’s blood-soaked leg. ‘Keep the pressure there while I fetch the doctor,’ she instructed, running off without waiting for any reply.
Phoebe did as she was told and, recalling her training when they had explained that the patients would take their lead from the nursing staff, forced her expression into one of confidence and calm. If she didn’t seem panicked by what was happening, she knew the patient would be less likely to become distressed by his condition.
‘Will I die?’ he asked, eyes wide.
‘We’re going to look after you,’ she said, having no idea whether or not he might survive but aware that she needed to calm him as soon as possible. ‘The doctor will be here soon.’
‘He will?’
She gave him a shaky smile. ‘As soon as he can be.’ She softened her voice. ‘Lie back, if you can. You’re in the best place you can be right now.’
‘Nurse is correct,’ Matron said, giving Phoebe a satisfied look as she stepped over to join them. ‘You need to calm yourself and trust us to look after you.’
‘Yes, Matron,’ he mumbled, squeezing his eyes shut before collapsing back onto the bed, unconscious.
‘What are you doing here, Nurse?’ Matron asked, taking a fresh dressing and indicating for Phoebe to remove the bloodied one quickly, before replacing it with the new one.
‘Waiting for the nurse to fetch one of the doctors, Matron. She told me to keep pressure on his leg wound.’
‘Right, then you keep doing that.’
Phoebe willed the doctor to come to the bed. If he didn’t hurry up and do something, the soldier was going to bleed to death.
* * *
‘I heard you had a bad one today,’ Hetty said as they lay on their beds that evening in the newly built hut they shared with other VADs. ‘Poor chap didn’t stand much of a chance, so I’m told.’
Phoebe shook her head miserably and gazed at her hands. She could still feel the stickiness from his wound on her palms, despite having washed her hands many times during the day. ‘I’ve no idea how he survived as long as he did. One of the nurses told me that they thought a piece of shrapnel might have moved in his leg when he was lowered to the bed and pierced an artery.’ She brushed away a tear. ‘Do you ever think that we’re fighting a losing battle here?’
She stared at her petite, pretty, blonde friend and was once again grateful for her presence. Phoebe had taken to her instantly. There was something about the girl that made Phoebe smile, and she thought it was probably to do with their new roommate’s cheerful countenance.
‘It does sometimes feel like we’re trying to stop an incoming tide,’ Hetty said thoughtfully, keeping her voice down so as not to disturb any of the other women resting on nearby beds. ‘But we are making a difference, and even though not all of the men survive, we’re helping others to, and that surely is worth staying here for.’
Phoebe contemplated her colleague’s words. Hetty was right. Then again, she usually was about most things. ‘Thanks, Hetty. I sometimes feel like I don’t know enough to even be here.’
‘You’re not the only one.’ Hetty sighed. ‘I heard two of the doctors chatting the other day when I passed their hut, and they were saying how no training could have prepared them for what they’re dealing with, day in and day out here. I think we’re all just going to have to try to keep on doing our very best for as long as it takes.’
Phoebe agreed. ‘I’m glad I’m here with you,’ she admitted. ‘You’re always a comfort to me, do you know that?’
Hetty’s face lit up. ‘As you are to me, Phoebe. We’ll be fine, mark my words. This is all still very new to us, don’t forget. Anyway,’ Hetty continued, ‘I’ve heard a rumour that they’re bringing in more nurses in the next day or so. We certainly need them.’
‘What, VADs like us or trained nurses?’ Phoebe hoped it would be more trained nurses.
‘No idea, but whatever training they’ve had, they’ll at least be more hands to help do the work that we’ve all been coping with these past few weeks. That can only be a good thing, don’t you think?’ Hetty asked.
‘Definitely.’ Phoebe pictured the field where their dormitory sheds were housed. ‘Where do you think they’ll sleep?’
Hetty’s cheery smile faded. ‘Ahh, I hadn’t thought of that.’
‘Right, I’m going to be late to my shift if I don’t hurry off.’
‘True, and Matron wants to speak to me.’ Hetty grimaced.
‘What do you think she’s summonsed you about?’
‘I’ve no idea.’ Hetty sighed. ‘But if we don’t hurry, one of those things will be a reprimand about me being late because I was chatting with my colleague.’ Hetty widened her eyes and they both moved swiftly towards the door.
* * *
Phoebe left Hetty outside Matron’s office, giving her a reassuring smile. ‘Good luck. I’ll probably see you on one of the wards later.’
Before Phoebe could say anything further Matron called her name. ‘Nurse Robertson.’
‘Yes, Matron, I’m here.’
‘Accompany this patient to the ward and clean him up, ready for the doctor’s inspection.’
Phoebe acknowledged the orderly who was finishing unloading the patient out of the back of an ambulance. ‘This way,’ she said, seeing the mud-caked body of the soldier lying unconscious on the stretcher and wondering how she was supposed to clean him properly with just a sponge and a bowl of warm water.
The orderly followed her into the admittance area and lifted the patient onto a bed before returning to the ambulance.
Phoebe looked at the unconscious patient and wondered what had happened to him, as it wasn’t clear where he had been injured. She pulled a screen around his bed and hurried to fill a bowl with water and grab some dressings, sponges and dry cloths. She then began unbuttoning his uniform and slowly peeling off his heavy, filthy clothes. It was disgusting work and soon her hands were caked in mud. It looked as if he had been wounded on his side as he wore a bloodied bandage just below his muscular torso, near his waist. There was another around his thigh.
Once she had finally stripped him of his mud-caked uniform, she covered the lower half of his body with a cloth and began cleaning him from the head downwards. It took a lot of water to shift all the muck from his face, torso, hands and arms, but she finally finished with his upper half. Taking a deep breath, she moved the towel and began cleaning around his private region, relieved that he was still unconscious and oblivious to what she was doing. Finishing as quickly as possible, she moved on to his legs, and before long she was satisfied that his entire body was as clean as she could possibly make it.
Phoebe saw one of the other VADs collecting the discarded uniforms and realised she hadn’t emptied the soldier’s belongings from his. She delved into his pockets and pulled out a few coins, a comb, a notepad, two pencils and a penknife, and laid them on top of the small table by his bed before dropping the uniform onto the floor.
Having washed her hands yet again, Phoebe asked another VAD for help changing the bedding so that he was lying on clean, dry sheets, then manoeuvred the soldier into the pyjamas she had taken from the store cupboard at the back of the room. She was leaning forward to tie the pyjama bottoms when the soldier gasped and pushed her away.
‘What the hell are you doing?’
Phoebe frowned. ‘My duty, soldier. What do you think?’
She stared at him, surprised to see how dark his brown eyes were and noting mortification register on his face.
‘You washed me?’ he whispered. ‘All of me?’
She realised that he was in shock. ‘Yes, I did.’
He looked down at the flannel pyjama bottoms and grabbed both ties, wincing in pain at the sudden movement.
‘Here,’ she offered, ‘let me.’
‘No.’ He sounded indignant at the thought. ‘I can tie my own trousers, thank you, Nurse.’
When he cried out and fell back against the sheets, Phoebe took the opportunity of him being distracted and tied them herself. Covering him with a sheet to make him feel more comfortable, she took a folded blanket, shook it out and covered him with that too.
‘I assure you I’ve seen it all before, if that’s what you’re worried about,’ she said, hoping to reassure him.
‘It is what I’m worried about,’ he said, frowning at her before closing his eyes. ‘You might have seen other men in my state, but this is my first time waking to find a strange woman has seen me naked.’
Phoebe stared into his chestnut-brown eyes and saw that they were flecked with gold and framed with long black lashes. What was wrong with her? This wasn’t the first time she had washed a man’s naked body and probably not the hundredth either, but this was the first time she felt embarrassed for a soldier to discover that she had done so.
‘I understand,’ she said, her voice gentle. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to shock you, um…’ She went to find the document that had been delivered with him, to learn his name.
Suddenly a look of panic crossed his face. ‘My notepad. I had a pad in my uniform. Where is it?’
She was surprised he wasn’t as bothered about the level of his injuries as he seemed to be about a notepad, but she had enough experience as a VAD to know that many patients reacted in ways she wouldn’t expect. Wanting to keep him calm, she reached out and picked up the pad, holding it in front of him. ‘I put it here next to you. And two pencils, as well as everything else that was in your uniform.’
His shoulders relaxed and he took the pad from her, resting it against his chest with a sigh. ‘Thank you, Nurse. I’m Captain Archie Bailey,’ he said sheepishly in his northern accent. ‘I’m sorry for making a fuss. I hope you’ll excuse me this once.’
Her heart gave a tug. How could she not forgive him?
She took a steadying breath and clasped her hands together to try to at least look as if she was in control of the situation. ‘I do, Captain Bailey. I will allow you to snap at me this one time only.’ She reached for a second pillow and, taking him by the shoulders, urged him to sit forward, and plumped up the pillows so that he was sitting more comfortably and better supported.
‘Now, if you’ll wait quietly, the doctor will be in to see you shortly.’
‘Nurse?’
‘Yes?’ She tried not to sound impatient and wasn’t sure if it was because he had snapped at her, or due to her unexpected reaction to him when she’d looked into his eyes.
He reached out and took her hand in his, his touch making her flinch, but she didn’t pull her hand away. ‘I am grateful for what you’ve done for me,’ he said, his voice weary. ‘You don’t know how much of a relief it is to be clean, wearing freshly laundered clothes and to be lying on a bed instead of making do in a muddy trench.’
He stared at her and for some reason she wasn’t able to tear her eyes from his. After a few seconds she found her power of speech and slowly withdrew her hand from his. ‘There’s no need to be grateful, Captain,’ she said. ‘All I ask is that you mind your manners and allow me to do my work.’
She didn’t miss the confusion in his eyes as she turned from him and wished she didn’t feel the need to push him away. Her attraction to him was disconcerting, though, and she had no idea how to deal with it. Anyway, she thought as she took his filthy discarded clothes and dressings to the laundry to be boiled clean, she was here to look after these wounded soldiers, not seek a husband.