Les Blanches Banques Prisoner-of-War Camp, Jersey
Celia watched her colleague handing a pile of disgusting-looking washing to an orderly and waited for Elsie to notice her. They weren’t close but as two of the trained nurses working at the camp, they were often in each other’s company.
‘I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to working here with that lot,’ Elsie grumbled.
Celia wasn’t surprised Elsie was upset. Ever since the women had been sent to work at the camp from the general hospital where they had worked briefly together the previous year, Elsie had shown her distaste for the German patients. ‘When I trained as a nurse no one mentioned I would be forced to look after German soldiers.’
‘I understand how you feel,’ Celia admitted.
‘I know you do,’ Elsie said nodding. ‘We’ve both lost family to these bastards.’
Celia cringed. ‘We have, but we need to remember what we were told before being sent here, Elsie.’
‘What? That they’re wounded soldiers and need our care?’
‘Yes, exactly that,’ Celia snapped, unable to help herself. She couldn’t imagine getting used to working in this place either, but both of them had little choice but to act professionally and do their level best in the circumstances. ‘I would also rather be working in the General, but I’m here now. It’s war time and we all have to do what we’re told.’
‘Don’t you think it’s beyond the pale?’
Celia sighed. ‘Yes, if I’m honest with you, I do. But whether we like it or not, they are our patients and we are duty bound to care for them, so we can’t allow ourselves to think of them simply as the enemy.’
Elsie folded her arms across her chest. ‘I can’t look at each one I have to nurse without wondering if he pulled the trigger that killed my brother.’
Celia rested a hand on Elsie’s shoulder. ‘I know. I have trouble not asking if they might have been flying on the Zeppelin that dropped the bomb that landed on my parents’ home the night they and my brother died.’
Celia’s grief still caught her off guard months later. As painful as it had been to lose her parents, she struggled most to come to terms with her brother Charlie being killed while he had been home on leave. Supposedly safe. The irony of him being in more danger while off duty haunted her.
Thank heavens her sister Phoebe had been staying with a friend that evening and survived, or she would have no one left.
Elsie frowned. ‘Are you all right?’
Celia nodded. ‘I will be. Look, Elsie,’ she said, hoping to pacify the girl. ‘We’ve all lost people we love and I’m sure these soldiers in the camp have as well.’ Determined to avoid Elsie’s scowl, Celia looked over towards the back of the sheds that made up the ward. ‘We have a choice of constantly blaming these men for what happened to us, or treating them as the patients they are. I know which choice I’ve made,’ she said, wondering if saying it enough would make her feelings come into line with what was expected of her. ‘And if you don’t want to get into trouble, I suggest you do the same.’
‘Fine. If I have no choice, then I suppose I shall have to do as I’m told. But I won’t like it.’
‘I’m sure you won’t,’ Celia said, noticing the newest sister enter the ward. ‘But I know your professionalism will make you do the best you can for them.’ She lowered her voice. ‘Sister O’Brien has just arrived, so we’d better get a move on.’
‘Fine.’
‘Girls, that’s enough chat,’ Sister O’Brien said, turning to them when she reached the ward door. ‘Remember, you are expected to leave outside the ward any reservations or hostile feelings you may have towards the men.’
Celia and Elsie swapped confused glances. Had Sister overheard them chatting?’
‘Do you hear me?’
‘Yes, Sister,’ they said in unison.
‘Good. I expect the best from those working under me and will not stand for anything other than complete professionalism. Is that clear?’
‘Yes, Sister.’
‘Good. Now, follow me.’
Celia took a deep breath, unsure what to expect when she walked inside the ward. They were just men, she reminded herself as she closed the door behind them and waited for Sister to speak.
‘Guten tag,’ Sister began, speaking to the men.
Celia and Elsie swapped astonished glances. Celia wasn’t sure why she was so shocked to hear the new Sister speaking in German, as it made perfect sense that Matron would appoint someone who was fluent in their language to be in charge of the ward, but she couldn’t help wondering where the woman had learnt to speak the language in the first place.
‘At least she’ll know what they’re saying behind our backs,’ whispered Elsie.
‘That’s true.’ But Celia felt little comforted by the thought that Sister O’Brien had the sense to let the men know that they would be understood, by her at least.
She realised Sister O’Brien had finished speaking and was addressing her. ‘Nurse Robertson?’
‘Er, yes, Sister O’Brien?’
The sister narrowed her eyes briefly. ‘I want you to go and change the dressing on Oberleutnant Hoffman over there. You will find that he speaks a little English, so you should be fine conversing with him.’
Celia nodded. ‘Yes, Sister O’Brien.’
‘Nurse Baker, you see to Hauptmann Meyer on the bed nearest the window. He also speaks a little English. Wachemeister Schmidt does not and so communication might be a little difficult at times. I shall see to him now, but any problems, come and fetch me if I’m not here, understand?’
‘Yes, Sister O’Brien.’
Celia braced herself for what was to come, and before she had time to think further, stepped forward and made her way over to the oberleutnant’s bedside. She wondered how Phoebe was getting on. It was still strange to think that her sister had left teaching children to train as a VAD, especially as Phoebe had always been a little squeamish and it was difficult to imagine her dealing with a bloodied patient.
She arrived at the patient’s bedside. ‘Good afternoon, Oberleutnant, um…’ She tried not to panic as she attempted to recall his name.
‘It’s Oberleutnant Hoffman,’ the soldier said. ‘Otto Hoffman.’
Celia knew she should look him in the eye when she spoke to him but couldn’t quite bring herself to. This man could have killed my family, she thought, but quickly pushed the notion away. She couldn’t think like that if she was to do her job properly.
‘I, er, will need to check your dressing and change it,’ she said, wishing she could force herself to speak louder, but her nervousness was threatening to take her voice from her completely.
‘Thank you, Nurse,’ he said, his voice clipped but not as harsh as she had imagined it would be.
Celia looked up then, straight into his eyes. They were almost aquamarine, she thought, stunned for a moment by a strong pull of attraction to the soldier as she stared into his vivid blue eyes. Repulsed by the strength of his appeal to her, Celia cleared her throat and looked away. What was she thinking? He was an enemy soldier.
Fetching a dressing from the small cupboard across from the doorway, Celia took a moment to gather herself.
‘You’re well, Nurse?’ Sister asked at her shoulder.
Shocked to have her in such close proximity, Celia wondered how quietly the woman must have walked, not to have alerted her to her presence. ‘Yes, Sister O’Brien.’
‘Good. Then kindly do your duty.’
Clearly the new sister was intending to watch her nurses very carefully, she realised. Celia took hold of a kidney bowl, a fresh dressing, some cotton wool and saline solution, and returned to the patient.
Placing everything onto a small table near to his bed, she quickly read his notes. ‘You have a bullet wound to your right calf and also on the right of your chest, is that correct?’ She looked at his wounded leg hanging in a sling contraption above his bed. It looked very uncomfortable.
‘It is, Nurse.’
She pulled back the sheet and blanket covering his torso and undid the buttons of his pyjama jacket, opening the right side. His chest was surprisingly smooth, unlike most of the British patients she had seen so far. He also had a slight tan, and she wondered where he might have been able to make the most of what little sun there had been in the past few months.
She untied the bandage around his broad chest and then carefully began to peel away the dressing a couple of inches below his collarbone. He clamped his teeth together and sucked in his breath, alerting her to the pain she was causing him.
‘Sorry. I’ll try to be gentler,’ she said, aware that her hands were shaking. She glanced up, hoping Sister O’Brien hadn’t noticed what she’d done. ‘I’ll attempt to soak the dressing off.’
‘That would be kind, thank you.’
As she worked on the stubborn dressing, Celia couldn’t help thinking how odd it was that the previous year she had arrived in Jersey, excited to be in the place where her family had brought her on summer holidays, then working in the General Hospital in St Helier as a newly qualified nurse. Now she was attending an enemy soldier, whether she liked it or not. It was disconcerting and a little surreal.
The dressing looked as if she had freed it enough to try and peel it back further from the dried blood that had glued it to the oberleutnant’s wound. ‘I hope this isn’t too painful,’ she said, surprised that she meant it.
What had happened to the woman who had decided all Germans were equally guilty for causing her parents’ and brother’s deaths? She glanced up into his face, taken aback to find him staring at her. She looked away, angry with herself for giving in to her curiosity.
The dressing finally came free, revealing the red wound that had been caused by an Allied bullet. Celia knew that only earlier that day she would have expected to be pleased to see such damage to an enemy soldier. Yet already, after working with this patient for just a few minutes, for the first time she was beginning to see them simply as men rather than the enemy.
‘I’ll give it a bit of a clean,’ she said, looking up at him again and finding it a little awkward that her face was so close to his. Maybe it would have been better to start working on his calf first, before dealing with this wound?
She washed the wound slowly and carefully, aware that the biggest dread for the doctors and nursing staff was infection. She had no idea what had happened to this man or where he had been caught, and most of all she had no wish for her lack of attention to result in an infection of tetanus or gangrene.
‘There,’ she said, satisfied she had done a good job. ‘I’ll dress it now for you, and then we can look at doing the same with your calf.’
‘Thank you.’
She glanced up at him. ‘I’m only doing my duty, Oberleutnant.’ She knew she should probably be a little friendlier and she would have been, if he was an Allied soldier. These men, though, needed to be kept at a distance.