Southern England, June 1st, 1940
What should have been a summer's day was reminiscent of a winter scene. Hurtling waves crashed upon the shore and the wind blew a foamy spray across the rocky beach. A row of perfectly uniformed nurses straightened themselves against the storm, struggling to keep their posture against the fierce gale. A young sister stood in the middle, nervously adjusting from one foot to the other, gripping onto her cape and resisting the urge to shiver.
She watched the boat battle against the towering waves and cursed under her breath as it fought to keep afloat. Surely they had been through enough? The beach was lined with volunteers, grocers, farmers, fishermen had all turned out to help, despite the pitiful weather; doing whatever they could to help. Laden with stretchers, they waited for the moment they were needed.
As the boat crashed against the shore, the crowd surged towards the hull. The beach became alive with action and noise, the nervous silence making way for the eager volunteers cries of instruction, and the soldiers' cries of help. The young nurse became suddenly frozen, the enormity of it all becoming too much. Usually so confident faced with adversity, she cursed herself for feeling quite so useless, trying her best to fight through stretchers and find herself a patient.
A shaken soldier stood himself up from the soaked deck and looked out across the beach, wincing against the pain that ran through his body. He staggered slightly, swaying as he tried to remember where he was, and how he had come to be there. Putting on a brave face he stepped forward, stumbling against the side of the boat. The next thing he felt was the damp sand against his face, the cool sea lapping at his feet, and a soft hand around his wrist.
The nurse had seen him fall, finally feeling the rush of adrenaline she was used to. Fighting with the sand, she rushed to his side and tried desperately to pull his feet from the ebbing tide.
"Are you alright? Can you hear me? Please tell me you're alright…." The terror that he was already dead ran through her body. Thankfully, a muffled moan, and the opening of his eyes calmed her worries. "Can you tell me your name?"
"Where are we? Are we in Dunkirk?"
"No Sir, we're in Dover."
"I didn't know the nurses were quite so pretty in Dover." The solider gave a wink, and tried to sit up, falling back to the ground with a moan.
"Maybe save the compliments for later, Sir. Now then, let's have your name, please."
"They call me T.J…..and you?"
"They call me Toffee…..but you can call me Sister." A stern tone, the tone she used with all her patients, but this time, for the first time, she said it with a smile.
