1916 D.H. Lawrence and his wife (née Frieda von Richthofen) had an unhappy First World War. Her origins, and his bohemianism, meant that they were constantly suspected of being German spies. Lawrence’s anxieties were heightened when he was summoned to a medical examination, 27–29 June, under the terms of the Conscription Act. If unfit for frontline service (C1), they might well find him serviceable for clerk’s duties (C2)
On arrival at Bodmin railway station, the novelist (currently wrestling with Women in Love) was marched with 30 other men (all ‘decent’ men, Lawrence later recalled) to the centre where they spent much of the next two days trouserless, with only their shirts covering their embarrassment.
Lawrence informed the examining physicians that he was suffering from TB. So obvious was it that he was unfit, they did not require the certificate he had ready from Ernest Jones (a doctor, but better known as Sigmund Freud’s biographer). He was exempted.
Lawrence elaborated his disgust at the medical examination – particularly the physical intrusion into his body by a ‘chemist assistant puppy’ – in Chapter 12, ‘Nightmare’, of his post-war novel, Kangaroo.
He put his hand between Somers’ legs, and pressed upwards, under the genitals. Somers felt his eyes going black.
‘Cough,’ said the puppy. He coughed.
‘Again,’ said the puppy. He made a noise in his throat, then turned aside in disgust.
‘Turn round,’ said the puppy. ‘Face the other way.’
Somers turned and faced the shameful monkey-faces at the long table. So, he had his back to the tall window: and the puppy stood plumb behind him.
‘Put your feet apart.’
He put his feet apart.
‘Bend forward—further—further—.’
Somers bent forward, lower, and realised that the puppy was standing aloof behind him to look into his anus. And that this was the source of the wonderful jesting that went on all the time.
After the war, Lawrence left England, never to return.