The Battle of Albert, the Somme, July 1916
Another disastrous day
A corporal in General Allenby’s Third Army, Albert Price knew he’d done well. A volunteer, he’d taken to the scant training that he’d been given and had come out with flying colours. Keen to do his duty to the best of his ability, he’d made it his business to learn all he could from the regular-army blokes. Now he had the sort of responsibility he probably wouldn’t be given if there hadn’t been a war on. But, with so many killed, he had been the only choice the officers had. Albert hoped he had the qualities that would be needed. It had seemed strange to him that the battle they were engaged in was called the Battle of Albert – oh, he knew that it was pronounced differently to his name, as this place sounded more like ‘Albear’, but it was spelt the same. Not that it made any difference what the battle was called; the hardship and terror of it never left them. With every day it became more difficult to follow the order of the whistle and send his young boys over the top of the trench; and even to go over himself, as each time he was certain a bullet had his name on it.
Sometimes he wished it had, because life in the trenches worsened with every passing hour. Incessant rain turned the ground into a bog that sucked everything into it. His feet were constantly wet and bitterly cold. But today, the 10th of July, was different: the sun was up, the sky was blue and some of the ruts in the ground were beginning to crust over. He hoped it wasn’t an omen that things were going to go badly; it had been like this on the first day of the Somme offensive and that had been a disastrous day.
Not used to the warm, humid atmosphere, Albert ran his finger around his collar to allow the air to circulate. As he did so, he noticed one or two of the boys fanning themselves. Some of them he’d never seen before, as the faces around him changed daily and diminished in number. Frightened boys, too young to be here, came and died. He shuddered to think how many faces he’d helped to cover with the death-wrap and had shoved dirt on, in the mass graves. But worse than that were the injured. He always helped to move them to the clearing stations, and sometimes, if he could get permission, helped those that he knew would die get to the hospital, so that he could be with them when they took their last breath. Promising impossible things to them, then helping to bury them.
Why? Why, in the course of the Earth’s history, were they the chosen ones to do this job? Through lack of food and being eaten alive by lice and rats, they were like corpses themselves; they were not up to the job. But he would not show that.
Looking along the line of kids he would have to shove over to their almost certain death, he caught the eye of young Jimmy O’Flynn. Jimmy had only joined them this week, but already he had found a place in Albert’s heart. A bright kid, he’d shown intelligence in the way he picked up new skills quickly, and his cheeky manner made for a bit of light-hearted banter. But that was slowly diminishing, as the reality of war took hold. After trudging for nearly one hundred miles, Jimmy and his pals had arrived exhausted. One battle – their first – had halved their number. That was a lot for a kid to take.
On his first trip up the ladder to the top of the trench and over into no-man’s-land, Jimmy had turned, just before disappearing, and had given a wink, saying, ‘I’ll show them.’ The lad had come here with spirit in his belly, wanting to avenge the deaths of his brothers. His spirit was now in his socks. At this moment it seemed to have deserted him altogether, as his huge eyes stared out of sunken sockets. Eyes that held despair.
All Albert could do was nod at Jimmy in a fatherly way, as no words would be heard over the barrage of explosions that made your ears sing and hurt your throat; not that he knew how a father would react in any given situation. He’d been brought up in an orphanage – a prison for children whom no one loved. Shaking this thought from him, he hooked on to the hope they all had for this attack.
The strategy had been to bombard the enemy line, and hope to make a hole in the Germans’ barbed-wire defences and take out some of their powerful guns, leaving the way clear for a final assault that should result in wiping out the Germans and bring a swift end to the war, or at least create a defining moment towards that goal.
Forgetting Jimmy and the rest of the lads for a moment, Albert allowed himself to think of Edith. He couldn’t believe that he would ever meet someone like her. She was well above his station in life and very beautiful, in a calm sort of a way, with a loveliness that shone from her. No, that was too soppy a way to describe her, as she had guts and a determination that he hadn’t come across in many men, let alone in a woman.
To think, though, that there was a chance she returned his feelings! It was an impossible thought, but when he’d been at the hospital with a badly injured lad a couple of days ago, they’d had a moment together. He’d used every ounce of his courage and told her, ‘I ’ope I’m not speaking out of turn, as I wouldn’t want to offend yer, but I think I am falling in love with yer.’ Ha! Imagine him using such fancy words. If she had been one of his own kind, he’d have said, ‘Cor, I don’t ’alf fancy you, girl’ in the good old London way. But she wasn’t, and he knew how to speak proper when it was called for.
She’d blushed and looked down at the ground.
He’d been mortified and tried to explain. ‘I’m sorry, Edith, I ’ad no right to speak out. Yer come from a different world ter me, but I might die any day and I’d do so a lot ’appier knowing you knew ’ow I felt.’
She’d raised those lovely hazel eyes of hers and told him, ‘Albert, I am very attracted to you, but it is difficult.’
He’d nearly jumped for joy. She’d said she was attracted to him! But her saying it was difficult had dampened his spirits, as it had highlighted the gulf between them. And that was as wide and almost as hard to cross as the Somme. But then, what did all that matter now? Leaning towards her, he’d said, ‘Love can conquer all, they say, Edith. Besides, people are changing – all this is changing us. And it’s likely that me being a cockney lad and you a lady won’t make a difference. Go with your feelings, Edith, not with bloody convention.’
Still looking into his eyes and stumbling over her words, she’d sealed his happiness by saying, ‘I – I’m not used to baring my soul, Albert, but I do have feelings for you. I can’t explain it, and it is something I never dreamed would happen, but I can’t stop thinking about you. I . . . it’s just. Oh, I don’t know, I . . .’
His heart had hurt with the way he longed to take her in his arms. But he couldn’t. He didn’t care what would happen to himself, but he couldn’t bring that trouble down on Edith. No fraternizing was the rule; and, besides, she might have been upset by such an action. He had to remember that she wasn’t his usual type. He had to act differently with her. Take his time.
But he hadn’t left her without gaining something. Besides knowing she had feelings for him, she’d agreed to a date with him! He’d told her his rest period was due and had asked her if she would meet up with him. He had three days owing to him, and they were scheduled for the last week of July – a time that seemed would never come and now felt like years away, as his longing for them had increased, knowing that he was to spend some of it with Edith. Well, at least she had said she would like to, and would try to arrange a day off. He was ignoring the fact that she’d added, ‘But only as a friend. Please do not read any more into this, and you must understand that it has to be a secret, as my reputation is at stake.’
Albert had taken her acceptance as confirmation that her feelings were deeper than she’d admit to. God, please let me live to make that meeting. Just this one is all I ask, as I’ve no right to ask you to spare me. Not when so many around me are dying. But while I’m speaking to you, can you look after me lads today? Bring them all back and in one piece. His ‘Amen’ went into the sound of an almighty crash, the biggest blast of the offensive. As it died away, the shrill sound of a whistle pierced the air around him. This is it!
Waving the lads up the ladder, he told each one, ‘Good luck is with yer today. The Germans ’ave ’ad their defences blown to kingdom come, so go get ’em, son.’
They went over without protest. Some didn’t get far before they were caught in machine-gun crossfire and had the life blasted out of their bodies. Others made a few yards’ progress before they too fell; dead or injured, he did not know, but by the time he went over the top himself, he knew his face to be awash with tears, as his feet trod the bodies of his lads deeper into the caked mud. But there was no time to zigzag between them.
Those still standing were moving slowly forward, snipers picking them off as they went. This wasn’t supposed to be happening! The barrage of bombs should have given them an easy walk across. ‘Take all you can’ had been the order. Some of the packs loaded onto the lads’ backs must weigh around fifty pounds. ‘And walk,’ they’d been told. ‘Conserve your energy.’ It was madness, bloody madness. His own bloody pack weighed a ton! Sometimes he questioned the mentality of his superiors, for they could have made sure they’d gained ground and a new strategic point, and then sent parties back for their supplies.
‘Keep your heads low, lads. Keep pushing forward.’ Enemy fire whizzed past him as he shouted this. Please, God, don’t let me name be on a bullet today!
An order of ‘Fire at will’ came to him. Looking to the east and west, he saw very few young men still on their feet, but to those that were he shouted, ‘Keep firing. It may just stop the bastards from raising their ’eads. And keep close to me.’
The words had hardly died when a body catapulted into the air and landed in front of him, tripping him up. His hand squelched into the pulp of the body’s chest as he tried to pull himself up. Sickened, he screamed, ‘You fucking bastards – I’ll kill the lot of you.’ But his words were lost in another explosion to the left of him.
Stones and clods of mud hit him, bruising and cutting his skin. Then a bigger object hit his shoulder, sending him off-balance again. It landed at his feet. He stared at the hideous sight of a boot with a leg that had a shattered bone, hanging sinews and a bulging muscle protruding from it as though it was vomiting them out of its severed end. His tears mingled with his snot as he felt for his ammunition.
Reloading his rifle, he shook his head to try and clear the muffled effect the last explosion had had on his hearing – not that he wanted to hear the screams or the cries for help from his comrades, but not doing so made him feel as though the world had deserted him, as a lonely feeling took him.
Ready to battle again, he charged forward. There were lads with him, but he couldn’t say how many or who they were. As he squinted through the fog of smoke and dust, what he saw made his heart sink into his boots. Christ, the barbed-wire barrier is still intact! The barrage of bombs hadn’t cut through it. They were doomed.
A bugle sounding the retreat came through the fog in his head. Would he get back to the trench alive? His eyes seared with pain as they took in the sight of a field of bodies. His feet squelched in a river of blood.
Looking towards the German trenches, he focused on where most of the fire had come from. A machine-gun barrel protruded from a gap in the sandbag wall, but to the right of it he spotted a gaping hole. A bomb must have had a direct hit. ‘Get rid of your packs and follow me,’ he said to those remaining.
Rolling under the twisted wire, he had to tug himself free more than once, ripping his grey coat to shreds. ‘Come on – do it. We have to take that machine gun out.’ As he spoke, the gun swung towards them. ‘Lay low, lads.’
But the gun swung away and fired into a group of retreating soldiers. The Germans must not have seen him and his men.
They were at the sandbag wall now. Looking through the hole, Albert could see no movement and not a German in sight. Motioning to his men, he scrambled through, rolling down and clambering up the other side. They were behind the German lines!
In front of them was a scene not unlike the one he’d left: bodies in hideous positions strewn along the bottom of the trench, and the backs of a dozen or so German soldiers intent on shooting ahead at the retreating Allied forces. Still on their bellies, and above and behind the enemy, Albert knew they had to take them out in one assault, if any of them were to get back to their own trench. ‘Right, lads, get your Mills bombs at the ready. When I say “go”, all get up together, pull the pins and throw and run like hell. You’ll have seconds to get out of range. Right, ready? Go!’
The blast rivalled any that had been heard during the bombardment of the last few days. Stones, mud and bits of human body parts pelted Albert. But when the dust settled and he looked up, what he saw made him want to cheer. He opened his mouth to do so, but only a croaking sound came from him, rasping in his throat and choking him. There wasn’t a German soldier alive for as far as he could see, and their killing machine was blown to smithereens.
Getting up, he shouted, ‘Run, lads! Get your packs and get yourselves back to our trench. But remember, this is only some of them; there’s more, so keep your heads down, and good luck.’
Running for all he was worth over what seemed like a carpet of bodies, Albert felt the pity of it all, as he apologized a dozen times to lads that he trod further into the mud and the bloodbath beneath his feet. But, somehow, he didn’t think they would mind, and he could almost hear them cheering him on: ‘Run, Albert, get back for us; do it for your lads, Corporal!’
Jumping the last yard and sliding down the sandbags, he landed in a heap, his body hitting the bottom of the trench where the baked mud made for a hard landing. For a moment he stayed still and waited, unable to process what was happening in his mind. Then the sickening sound of screams for help and agonized moans penetrated his confusion once more. The gunfire had stopped. Looking up, he saw so few lads – not even a quarter of those who had gone over remained.
Orders rang out: ‘Any able-bodied men, fall in for stretcher duty. Come on! We are the lucky ones, so let us help those not so lucky.’
Fear left him. He was needed and he would answer the call.
Darkness had fallen before the last moan of death hailed the end of another disastrous day. Having carried countless wounded back to the trench, whilst burial parties worked at getting the dead underground, Albert was on his last trip out. There were four lads with him. In twos, they helped a couple of wounded and set off back. ‘I’ll go a bit further. I’m sure I heard something,’ he told them.
Reaching the barbed wire, his white flag held aloft, he heard the sound again. Going over to where it came from, he found a young lad hanging over the wire netting. Only his torso, arms and head remained intact. Lighting his face with his torch, Albert saw it was a lad he knew: Andy Phelps.
The beam of light showed the agony and fear in the lad’s eyes. ‘Don’t be afraid, son. Trust in God: He will deliver you to a land of peace and ’appiness.’ How I can say these words, and with meaning, when I cannot believe them? I do not know. But they give hope, and that is all that matters. And Albert saw the hope. He saw the lad’s fear go and peace take hold, just before his last breath escaped from him, never to be drawn again. ‘Rest in peace, son. You’ve done a good job.’
Making his way back to the trench, Albert allowed his sobs to go unchecked, as his memory took him back to the time a few weeks before when he’d taken that same lad – just turned eighteen, and one of the last volunteers before conscription – to the tent hospital. He was a nice lad, who was more concerned with the trouble he thought he was causing than for himself. Edith had mended him and he’d been sent back for duty just this morning. Now he was gone.
Albert reached the trench without problems. One thing could be said for both sides: they never shot at the enemy whilst they collected their wounded and buried their dead. He looked at the huddle of defeated boys. ‘Come on, lads, we ’ave to lift ourselves. This ’as been a bad day, but we are needed. We ’ave to get all our wounded brothers to the Red Cross clearing station. Look sharpish, and fall in to ’elp the medics.’
As he said this, he realized that Jimmy wasn’t with them, and yet he’d seen him go over with the burial party. Calling over to a group that he’d seen Jimmy with, he asked, ‘Where’s Jimmy – has he come back in yet?’
‘He’s down there,’ a shaky voice answered. ‘Hurry, Corporal, he needs help.’
An alarm went off in Albert, but he stayed calm. ‘Righto, leave it with me.’
Jimmy could see his pals swirling around inside his head. Most of them dead or wounded. They were his new mates – those he’d made since joining up – and Eric and Arthur, whom he’d known since birth. His mind went over and over how he’d had no choice but to step on Arthur’s body as he fell just in front of him, and how they’d only gone a few feet when Eric had fallen to the side of him. But when they were burying the dead, he hadn’t found either of them. At least he hadn’t been able to recognize anyone he could say was them.
The images began to fade as he thought of his brothers. He’d love to feel their arms around him, or even to hear them teasing him, but at least they were at peace and finished with this lot. They weren’t sitting in this stinking pit of hell.
Unable to control his limbs from shaking, he was distracted by a scratching sound. Rats! The rats are coming! They lurked around every corner, just waiting to pounce on him. Rats bigger than their next-door neighbour’s cat back home. They would get him, he knew that. Their beady eyes shifting around in their heads always found him and focused on him.
Trying to banish them from his mind, he concentrated on thoughts of his mam and dad and a normal life: folk at the factory, a beer at the pub. Even though not of age, the landlord had served him in the pub yard and had told him to enjoy it. ‘But always keep it in moderation,’ he’d told him. ‘Don’t drink it like your dad does, Jimmy lad. That’s no way to enjoy beer – swilling it down your neck, one after the other. It makes you do things you wouldn’t normally do.’
Aye, Jimmy knew them things. He’d witnessed his dad when drunk, beating his mam when she didn’t deserve it. No! That’s not a good thought. Think of how good Dad is when he isn’t drunk – a gentle, kind man, who is proud of me. Well, there’s nowt to be proud of now, Dad, because I’m done. I can’t go on.
Now was the time. As he lifted his gun towards his mouth, a noise to his left caught his attention. Looking towards it, he saw a furry black rat standing on its hind legs. They’re coming for me! The rats – they’re coming for me . . . Arghhh!
‘JIMMY! God, what the ’ell do yer think yer doing? Christ! Shut that racket up and pull yerself together. Fall in and ’elp the medics.’
It’s Corporal Albert. He’ll stop the rats. He’ll stop my body from shaking. ‘Help me . . . Help me – they’ll eat me. I’d rather die by the gun.’
‘No, Jimmy. No!’
His gun was twisted away from him, but he wouldn’t let go; he needed it. He had to have it, had to take himself away from all the rats.
Strong arms lifted him. A shot rang out. Burning pain seared his hand. Corporal Albert’s anxious voice penetrated the deafness that the blast had rendered on him. ‘Christ! It went off. Your gun went off – Christ!’
Other voices now. ‘What happened, Corporal?’ ‘Is Jimmy all right?’ ‘Move out of the way; let the corporal through.’ ‘You’ll be reet, Jimmy.’ A northern voice. Eric? Arthur? No, they’re dead!
‘DEAD! You’re all going to die – the rats are going to eat you!’
‘Take no notice of ’im; he’s delirious. Get out of me way, lads, I’m taking ’im to the ambulance. It was an accident. He’ll be all right. Doctor Edith will ’ave him back ’ere in no time.’
The words of the corporals and those of the lads wishing him well swam around Jimmy’s head, as he sank deeper and deeper into the blackness that took him.
Getting into the first available ambulance to leave from the first-aid post, where they had applied a dressing to the stump that had once been his right hand, Albert decided to go with him to the hospital. The thirty miles or so to Abbeville seemed like a hundred by the time they reached it. Other cases took the stretchers, but not wanting to wait for one to come back, Albert carried Jimmy the hundred yards or so into the hospital. With each step, Jimmy’s body took on the weight of a sack of coal. Albert’s knees buckled as he entered the main tent.
The sight that met him pulled him up. Never in his life had he thought to witness what looked like a thousand men crying in agony. He’d heard tell of the expression ‘a sea of blood’ and had used the phrase himself, but not even that could describe the mass of blood dripping from the broken bodies and pooling around his feet.
Gaping holes showing flesh and bones, severed arms and legs, heads bandaged so that just eyes peered out and, above it all, the noise, the blood and the horror. Edith called out orders: ‘Take number five to “Heads”, and numbers six, eight and nine to “Stomachs”, seven to “Limbs”. Prepare the rest for immediate operations. I have sent for Captain Woodster, and he is bringing anyone he can find to help us.’
Her voice had a tired edge to it. And yet, though covered in blood and with her hair matted to her face with sweat, Edith looked magnificent. Her tiny frame had taken on the stature of a god, as light shone from her in the form of hope.
When her eyes focused on him, her face lit up. His darling girl. Once again he asked himself, How can this wonderful woman – this lady – have feelings for me? But she did. And though theirs was a forbidden love, one day there had to be a way they could be together.
‘Albert! Are you all right? What are you doing here?’
This last question would be because Edith knew he wasn’t due his rest period yet and shouldn’t be out of the trenches. But he’d tasked one of the lads with telling his officer that he’d have to take Jimmy to the hospital himself, and hoped that would make his absence all right. He was sure it would, as they were used to him helping the medics when the fighting was over. Telling her about Jimmy, he was careful to add that the lad’s injuries were an accident. ‘He’s in a bad way, mentally as well, Edi— Ma’am.’
Albert waited while Edith tended to Jimmy. Still unconscious, the lad didn’t stir.
‘He’ll have to be operated on, but the wound is clean, so I’ll make sure he stays asleep for a while, as we surgeons will be working flat out, and God knows when we will get to him.’
Comforted by the knowledge that Jimmy would be all right, he nodded. Then whispered, ‘Edith, can I see you for a moment?’
Her face took on a worried look. ‘I have so much to do – I’m sorry. How long now till your rest period? I know you said, but I’ve forgotten.’
‘It didn’t mean that much to yer then?’
‘Oh, it did! I – I mean, oh, I don’t know – all of this, it . . .’
‘I know, it wipes out normal life; even stuff yer look forward to can diminish in its importance.’
‘I – I’m sorry. I have thought about it. I’ve thought about it a lot. I just forgot the actual timing of it.’
‘Well, it’s three weeks and twenty-three hours away.’
‘Ha, not that you are counting! Look, I have to get on, but I will arrange to have a day off and meet you in Beauvais town. No one should see us there – we can get separate trains. Connie went there the other day on her rest day and she brought a train timetable back with her. She said it is beautiful and has the most wonderful cathedral. It is in the province of Picardy.’
‘Ah, the famous song. I’d never ’eard all of it, but some lads arriving the other day came in singing it: “Roses are flowering in Picardy, but there’s never a rose like you . . .”‘
‘You have a nice voice. I will get you to sing the whole song to me when we meet.’
‘It will be me pleasure to do so. I’ll learn the words before then. It’ll be me love-song to yer.’
‘Oh, Albert.’
Her blush made her look even more beautiful. He could hardly find his voice to ask, ‘What time, and where, shall we meet?’
‘There is a train that leaves Abbeville town centre at ten a.m. and one at eleven-thirty a.m. I will catch the ten. Connie was telling us about a cafe she found that serves delicious snacks and makes its own bread, so we will meet there. She said it is two streets away from the station. Turn left when you come out, and then take the second right. The cafe is called the Jardin d’Eden.’
Ironic, he thought, that there should be a place with a name like the Garden of Eden, so near to this hell they lived in. ‘I’ll be there, and I will try to get a shower first!’ She didn’t miss the humour of this, for at this moment they were both covered in the gore of the day. She gave a wry smile. ‘You’d better! Now get off back, and let me get on with my work.’
‘Before I scarper, I ’ave to tell yer, I’m worried about young Jimmy. I reckon ’is mind ’as gone. He thinks the rats are going to eat ’im, and he babbles on about death and fire and ’ell. But he didn’t do this on purpose. It was an accident.’ He told her what had happened. ‘If the officers come to make enquiries, tell them what I’ve just told you, and that I’ll speak for ’im.’
Her eyes had opened wide as she listened. He could see that she understood the implications. If it was thought that Jimmy had shot himself because he was a coward, he would face the firing squad.
Albert explained about Jimmy having lost two brothers at the beginning of the war. ‘He’s a brave lad, Edith. I’ve fought alongside ’im and there’s none better. It’s just that today’s lot has turned ’is mind. Make ’im better, Edith, please make ’im better.’ His plea made tears well up in his eyes. He hoped Jimmy would be okay, and thought of the lad’s poor mother.
‘I will – don’t upset yourself. Many of the injured have mental-health problems. It happens because they are weak and their defences are down. But we have a special VAD, a girl from a family I know at home. She can work wonders with those who are suffering mentally, but don’t have physical wounds to the head. She gets their confidence up and helps them to unravel their tangled minds. Don’t worry. I’m sure Jimmy won’t be seen as a coward by the officers. They’ll believe you.’
‘God, I ’ope so. They can be a pompous lot. One said to me the last time we ’ad to execute a lad, “Must keep up morale, and must keep the lads in line. Cowards and deserters are traitors!” It is as if they think the executions will keep the ranks from deserting, but it ain’t like that, Edith. Most of those that run are in a bad way, as Jimmy is. I’m not saying all, but most of them that are caught are, as they can’t think things through logically. I’d not object to shooting the other kind – those who plan to go and are difficult to find.’
‘I don’t know what to say. Most of my colleagues are male officers and we have debated this. They understand the condition of the men, but still agree with the punishment.’
‘They’re of a different breed. ’Ow could someone say what that last one did, to a man shivering with fear in front of a firing squad? I’m not kidding, Edith. After he’d said about keeping the ranks in line, he turned to the lad waiting to be shot and said, “Hope you heard that, and may God forgive you for your cowardice – fire!” All in one sentence. It’s sickening, Edith, and I don’t think I can do it again.’
‘I’m sure you won’t have to. I will speak to Christian and Douglas about it. Thank you for getting a message to them for me. Now they know I am here, they are visiting me whenever they can. It is wonderful to see them.’
‘I ain’t met them yet. I just sent a note along the line and ’oped it would get to them, I’m glad it did. Yer know, Edith, if this were other times I’d—’
‘Doctor, over here, quick!’
Edith smiled, a sad smile.
Not wanting to leave her feeling sad, Albert winked and said, ‘Only three weeks . . .’
‘And twenty-three hours! I know.’ She giggled, a sound that warmed the cold place that held his heart, but what she said next lifted him even more, because her words showed him how much she cared: ‘Keep safe, Albert, promise me you will keep safe.’
If only this were other times, he thought, and then consoled himself. If it were, she’d not even talk to him, let alone acknowledge an attraction for him.
Edith watched Albert leave. A feeling of ‘if only’ came over her, but she shook the silly notion from her and turned her attention to the lad Albert had brought in, because now he had stirred, his mental state was apparent.
From a foaming mouth, the boy uttered over and over again that the rats would get him. He didn’t seem to be in pain and she was glad of that, because dosing him now would interfere with the anaesthetic she needed to give him later, but his distress was terrible to see and for that he needed Jennifer’s help. She touched Jimmy’s hand. ‘Everything will be all right, Private O’Flynn.’ Then she turned. ‘Has anyone seen Jennifer Roxley? I need her here.’
‘I passed her as I came in, so I am sure she will have heard your shout,’ answered Captain Mark Woodster.
‘Oh, you got here quickly. Thanks. Hope you’ve brought help – we’re going to need it.’
His smile soothed, but what he said annoyed her. ‘Had to. I couldn’t ignore a damsel in distress now, could I?’
‘I’m managing perfectly well, thank you, and am not distressed. Neither am I a damsel! It is the wounded who need you, not me.’
‘Oh dear – sorry, old thing. I didn’t mean . . . Anyway, least said soonest mended. What do you want me and my team to do?’
Feeling silly for giving him such a rebuff, Edith took the easy way out and went into professional mode. ‘If you take all the limb amputations and I deal with the bullet wounds, that will be a big help. I have a couple of serious head-wounds that need priority, so I will start with them. Nurse Connie, whom you know, has a list of who should be first, and is in charge of pre-ops. And Nurse Nancy will take care of them post-op. Have you met her yet?’
‘Once you’ve met one, you’ve met the other, with Connie and Nancy, I believe. They seem to come as a pair. Yes, I have met them both and couldn’t wish for better in my team. Besides working with them a couple of times, I met them on the beach the other day, and they were having a whale of a time—’
‘We’ve no time to chatter, Captain Woodster. I have to scrub up. Good luck.’
Walking away from him, her nerves felt in a tangle. He had a way of rubbing her up the wrong way, and she didn’t know why.
As she scrubbed her arms and hands, having donned a clean white gown, Edith thought about Mark Woodster. A senior medical officer and surgeon with the South Lancashire’s, he had told her that his family were all medicine- or army-orientated. He’d taken to the medical side, but found himself in both with the outbreak of war. A handsome man and a good-humoured one, he often helped out when the going got heavy. His usual job was in the first-aid station on the front line. His prompt and expert attention, under horrendous conditions, had saved many a man from dying and kept them going till they could reach the hospital.
He’d called into the hospital on his day off and asked if he could have a follow-up on the men he’d sent there. Seeing the strain she was under, he’d volunteered to help. Now, once he’d cleared his station and battle had ceased, he tirelessly came over to help them and always answered her call for assistance. She really should treat him better, but she found it difficult even to be civil with him. Now, Albert . . . Is there something in this comparison? Am I rejecting what Mark stands for: the upper crust of society that Mother has tried so hard to marry me to, and keep me chained to? Is that why I find Albert so attractive? After all, he represents everything Mother would look down on and forbid me from mixing with. Oh, I don’t know . . .
Hours later, Edith straightened her back. The strain of the night had worn her nerves thin, and the pain of extreme tiredness was so severe that her body felt as though every limb had been stretched from its socket.
‘Come on, old thing. Connie has made an urn full of tea, and it’s the best-tasting tea ever!’
‘Captain Woodster, why do you call me “old thing”? It is very rude and presumptuous of you! I am not your old thing! I’m . . .’ Damn, now the tears were coming.
‘Hey, it’s all right. I’m sorry. I . . . I—’
‘No, it’s me that’s sorry. I know it is just a term used by our class, I am being silly. Please ignore me.’
‘You’re not being silly, old— I mean, Edith. It has been a long night, and I have shed a few tears myself during it. I shouldn’t have taken liberties. Oh, Edith, I . . .’
His words triggered more tears. His arm had come around her. The nearness of him as he held her made her feel strange. Her father and her brothers had been the only men ever to hold her before this. Stiffening, she pulled away from him and blew her nose. She couldn’t cope with the confusion of feelings inside her. She’d gone from being a woman who shunned all men to being affected by two, in ways she didn’t understand; men of two very different worlds – what was wrong with her? Whatever it was, she must keep it in check or it would be the undoing of her.
Mark let out a huge sigh, looked at her for a moment with a look that spoke of his own confusion and then said, ‘Let’s get to that tea before it’s stewed, eh?’
All she could do was nod, then follow him as if she were a little girl. Maybe tomorrow – now only a couple of hours away – would bring her back to sanity. All she needed was a little sleep. Of that she was sure.