They worked tirelessly, staunching bleeding wounds and bandaging shattered limbs, all the time talking quietly to the casualties, trying to ooze confidence even when they knew a case was hopeless. Then, as the attack seemed to be over and men returned to the trench, they began to carry the wounded down the system of trenches to the waiting ambulances. More had appeared, mostly horse-drawn, but Pips and William loaded their two vehicles.
‘William, you go first in the car, you’ll be quicker, and I’ll bring the ambulance. Take Private Hawkins with you. His leg is wounded, but he can sit upright. And there are five more, who are walking wounded, if you can fit them in,’ Pips said, as she appeared out of the trench with the first soldier she had helped leaning heavily on her.
‘It’ll be a squeeze, miss, but I don’t reckon they’ll mind.’
William set off in front of her, but halfway back, the ambulance’s engine made a peculiar noise and then stopped. Pips clambered out and went round to the back. As she opened the door, voices greeted her.
‘What’s happened?’
‘Why have we stopped?’
‘I knew we shouldn’t have a woman driving us.’
‘Sorry, boys. The engine’s died on me.’
‘T’ain’t the only thing that’ll die if you don’t get us back to a first-aid post.’
‘Anyone need a drink of water? I have some in the cab.’ Ignoring the grumbling, she handed out water and then looked at their wounds. One seriously injured soldier was now unconscious. Pips bit her lip. There was nothing she could do until help arrived. She hoped William would come straight back.
It seemed an age before she heard the sound of the car, though in fact it was only about ten minutes. But to those in dreadful pain, it seemed an eternity. William pulled up in front of her, leaving space for other vehicles to pass.
‘What’s happened, Pips?’
‘The engine just died.’
‘Let’s take a look . . .’
William disappeared under the bonnet whilst Pips still tried to reassure the wounded. Mentally crossing her fingers, she told them, ‘William’s a mechanical genius. He’ll have us going in no time.’
Five minutes later, her silent prayers were answered as the engine burst into life. Grinning at her, William slammed the bonnet cover. ‘There you are, as good as new. It was just a plug lead worked loose on these rough roads.’
‘Thank you, William. Right, lads, hold tight. We’re off again.’ To William she said, ‘I’ll come straight back. Where are Hugh and Peter? D’you know?’
‘They’re taking the ones that can be moved straight away back to Robert and perhaps even to the nearest casualty-clearing station.’ He shook his head. ‘There’s that many being brought to our advanced unit, we can’t cope. We’ve got to move them out as soon as we can.’
Pips nodded, imagining how their first-aid post was already being overwhelmed.
Fifteen minutes later, after crawling the rest of the way along the pitted road and trying to ignore the cries of pain from the back of her ambulance, she could see for herself the enormity of the task Dr Hazelwood’s team had. The wounded were lying everywhere, awaiting their turn for attention. Brigitta moved quietly amongst them and Giles worked in the tent set up to deal with the worst of the wounded. As she pulled up just inside the field, Hugh and Peter drew in beside her and came at once to help unload her casualties.
‘We ought to concentrate on getting all these moved back to Robert,’ Hugh told her as he helped her carry the men off the vehicle.
‘I can’t, Hugh. I must go back. At least if we can get them back here, we can deal with the worst cases.’
He glanced at her. ‘You know that’s not what we’re supposed to do, don’t you? You ought to bring the slightly wounded first, miss.’
Grimly, her mouth tight, Pips said, ‘I’m fully aware of what the army wants, but I can’t leave seriously injured men to bring back those with little more than a scratch first. I can’t instruct you what to do – you must do what your conscience tells you – but I’m doing it my way.’
Hugh grinned at her. ‘I hope, if I get hurt, miss, that you’re on hand to come and get me.’
She smiled back at him. She liked the two cockney brothers; their humour kept the whole team buoyed up even in the darkest times.
‘You can bet your life on it, Hugh.’
He roared with laughter, the welcome sound floating across the field. ‘I probably would be, miss. Now, off you go. Stay safe.’ It was Hugh’s ‘goodbye’ phrase.
When she got back to the trenches, she found some of the soldiers close to panic.
‘It’s the captain. He’s been hurt.’
‘Where is he?’
‘Still out in no-man’s-land. But as soon as we put our heads above the parapet, they fire at us. We can’t get him.’
‘We’ve got to get him. He’s our talisman. If he gets killed, then we’re all done for.’
Pips glanced around her. The wounded looked up at her with pleading eyes, yet what they said was the opposite. ‘Go and find the captain, miss. We’re fine.’
They were anything but ‘fine’, she could see that, but she could also feel that the rescue of their captain meant far more to them.
She turned to one of the able-bodied men. ‘Show me.’
He led her back to the front line and helped her up onto the fire step. ‘We reckon he’s in that shell hole just to the left, nurse.’
‘How can we get to him?’
‘We can’t. We’ve tried and there’s a sniper just waiting for us to poke our heads up. He’ll just have to wait until nightfall. Then both sides fetch their wounded in. It’s like a bit of an unspoken truce. You know?’
‘Are there many more out there along with the captain?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘How far away are the enemy trenches?’
‘Not far. You can hear them talking and laughing when the wind’s in the right direction.’
‘Find me a stick.’
‘Eh?’
‘A stick or a pole. Something I can hoist a white flag up on.’
‘You can’t do that, miss. They’ll think we’re surrendering.’
‘Just find me something.’
A few moments later the soldier returned with a pole he’d pulled out of a stretcher. ‘I don’t like this, miss.’
Pips removed her white nurse’s cap. Then, standing on the fire step again, she raised her voice and in her schoolgirl German shouted, ‘German soldiers, can you hear me?’
There was a moment’s silence before a voice said, ‘Yes, we hear you.’
‘I am a British nurse. I wish to fetch a wounded man in from a’ – she paused, not knowing the German for ‘shell hole’ – ‘from the land between us. I will have a soldier with me, but he will not have a gun.’
There was silence for several moments before the voice came again. ‘Hold up a white flag and we will not shoot you. We don’t shoot women.’
‘That’s not what I’ve heard,’ the soldier beside her muttered. ‘Just ask the poor Belgians.’
Ignoring him, Pips wrapped her cap around the end of the pole and held it aloft. The German shouted again. ‘We see it. We will not fire.’
‘Don’t go, miss, the captain’ll have my guts for garters if I let you.’
‘This isn’t your responsibility, soldier. By the way, what’s your name? I can’t keep calling you “soldier”.’
‘Smith, miss.’
‘I’ll go up first, Private Smith, and if they don’t shoot, will you follow me?’
After a moment’s hesitation, he nodded, but his eyes were fearful.
Slowly, holding her white flag aloft, Pips climbed up the ladder and stepped onto the parapet. Her heart was pounding as she stood up, but no shots were fired. She glanced back down into the trench. ‘I think it’s all right. Come on.’
Reluctantly, the soldier climbed up and together they made for the hole in the barbed wire. One or two bodies lay against it, obviously beyond Pips’s help.
‘Over here,’ the soldier pointed, still glancing fearfully towards the enemy’s trenches. But they reached the shell hole and slithered into it. George Allender gaped at them as if he were seeing an apparition. Beside him lay another soldier, moaning, ‘My eyes – my eyes. I can’t see.’
Without preamble, Pips said to the captain, ‘Where are you hurt?’
‘My leg.’ Still mesmerized, George showed her. It was a flesh wound – the bullet had not hit the bone – but it was bleeding profusely and in danger of becoming infected as he lay there in the blood-soaked mud.
Swiftly, Pips dressed it and wound a bandage around it.
‘You shouldn’t have done this, Miss Maitland.’ He glanced at Smith. ‘And you shouldn’t have let her.’
‘Begging your pardon, captain, but you try stopping her. I couldn’t.’
The captain smiled wryly. ‘I don’t doubt it, Smith.’
‘Can you stand?’ Pips asked, ignoring their conversation.
Private Smith helped the captain to his feet.
‘Take him back to the trench. I’ll bring this other soldier.’
He was only a boy. Pips doubted he was old enough to be here. He reminded her sharply of Harold Dawson. Briefly, she wondered where he was now. Her mother had written to tell her that he had disappeared and the family believed he had enlisted. It had been hard to tell Alice and William the news.
As they began to climb the side of the hole, Pips said, ‘Wait!’ Then she raised her voice and shouted, ‘We are coming out now. There are four of us. We have two wounded. Don’t shoot.’
The German shouted to them again. ‘Hold your flag up and we will hold our fire. But no more, now. You cannot fetch any more until tonight.’
Pips sighed, but she shouted, ‘Understood.’
The short journey back to their own trench was tortuous. Any moment they expected a bullet in their backs, but the German kept his word and they reached the ladder safely. Once below the parapet, they all breathed a sigh of relief, yet there was still a long way to go to get the two casualties back to the waiting ambulance.
‘Just let me see to this boy’s eyes, captain.’
It was an ugly sight as she gently eased the boy’s hands from his face. He had a shrapnel wound in his left eye and his right eye was caked with mud. At this moment, he was completely blind, though she couldn’t see if his right eye was permanently damaged. Gently, she bathed away the earth, but his eye was closed and he screamed in pain. She bandaged his eyes and then helped him to stand.
‘Lean on me. We’ll get you back to the first-aid post and get you some real help. I’m sorry I can’t do more here.’
They struggled through the trench system and finally reached Pips’s ambulance. She took the captain, the young boy and four others in her ambulance, George Allender sitting in the cab beside her.
‘You shouldn’t have done it, you know,’ he said, as she negotiated the ruts and holes in the road.
Pips chuckled. ‘Thankfully, captain, I am not under your command. You can’t court-martial me. And I very much hope you won’t take any action over Private Smith. I left him little choice.’
George smiled. ‘If I do report the incident, Miss Maitland, it will be to recommend him for a medal.’
‘Good. He certainly deserves it. He was clearly petrified, but he came anyway.’
George nodded and said seriously, ‘Yes, that’s what real bravery is.’
When they got back to the advanced unit, Pips could see that a great many had been moved on by Hugh and Peter and there were only a few being brought in now. No doubt there would be another influx that night, when the wounded could be fetched in from what the men called no-man’s-land. Pips shuddered thinking of men lying for hours in muddy shell holes or on the open ground. Their wounds, whatever they were now, would be so much worse by the time they could be rescued.
Pips handed the captain and the rest of the casualties over to Brigitta. ‘I must go back. There are nine more to bring, but I might be able to get them all in one more journey if some of them can sit upright.’
As Pips completed her final trip, the weariness washed over her. They all went back to the main post near Brandhoek for a few hours. All the casualties had been brought here too. She stumbled across the grass to the small tent she shared with the other women and fell onto her bed. She was quickly asleep and didn’t wake until she felt Alice shaking her.
‘I’ve brought you a cup of tea.’
Outside the tent, Pips could see it was already dark.
‘You should have woken me, Alice. I have to get back to the advanced post. They’ll be bringing the wounded in.’
‘You’re to do no more tonight. You’re exhausted.’
‘Nonsense, Alice. I have to go. There are wounded men still out there.’
‘Hugh, Peter and William are coping with that, Miss Pips. And I’ll go with them too.’
‘Alice, just do as I say. Fetch me a bowl of hot water and a clean uniform.’
Alice stood up as if to do Pips’s bidding, but then she stood very still for a moment.
‘Alice . . .’ Pips began impatiently.
Slowly Alice turned back to look down at her. Standing with her hands on her hips, she said, ‘This is the last time I’m going to call you “Miss Pips”. I’m not your lady’s maid any more. Out here, we’re equals. I even did the same first-aid course as you, so I’m just as qualified – apart from the fact that I can’t drive or speak foreign languages. I’ll gladly and willingly do what you ask me to do, but not what you order me to do.’
Without waiting for Pips to reply, Alice left the tent and hurried away.
Open-mouthed, Pips stared after her. Then a smile spread slowly across her mouth as she murmured, ‘Well, well, well. Who’d have thought it, but good for you, Alice Dawson. Good for you.’