Chapter 4
~ London, England, Oct. 1914 ~
The hospital really was a sight to behold as I made my way through rows of beds, the majority of which had been imported in an effort to counteract overflowing. In each of them lay an occupant, moaning and bloody, bereft of hope and youth, which should have been awarded them in excess. I couldn't believe my eyes. Of all the visions I had held for my future, this was not one of them. I recalled checking the inventory – how could I have calculated for this? We were supposed to be prepared for everything. I don't think anyone was supposed to be prepared for this. I stalked between the beds, distributing fresh water, cautiously checking bandages and cleaning wounds which seemed to be increasingly reluctant to heal. Occasionally I would collide with Mary and we would exchange brief smiles of encouragement, but her smiles never met her eyes and I doubt that mine did either. We both attempted to hide it, but it was impossible. For the first time in my life, I am afraid. The government insist that the war will be over by Christmas, but how could this be possible? Only a few months at war and we are already teeming with injured soldiers, our supplies running dangerously low and our staff seriously depleted with conscription laws. The sadist in me was doing backflips with joy that I had been given my opportunity to do something as a nurse, but this was not the breakthrough I had had in mind. Because of the lack of supplies, and there doesn't seem to be any more on the way, a lot of our jobs now entailed improvisation. The inspectors from London's main hospitals had proclaimed that once supplies had been sufficiently used, we should turn wounded men away, instead directing them to one of London's main hospitals. I suppose that it makes sense, but surely keeping them all in such confined spaces would only serve as a breeding ground for infection. Besides, some would much rather be treated in smaller hospitals and homes nearer to where they grew up – it gives them a little something to hold on to. At least the larger hospitals aren't overflowing yet though…yet.
Of course, Dr Phillips refused in one of his few redeeming moments, instead declaring that as long as he worked here he would continue to treat anyone who came desperately knocking. I assured him that I would stand by his side and for the first time since working here, I felt that he began to respect me. We would work in conjunction with each other rather than him throwing me towards the cupboards to fold sheets. He even asked me advice on some minor procedures – it was more to include me than that he actually required my assistance, but I appreciated it nonetheless. Now at least I don't have to ponder my purpose here and how long I will stay. I will be staying indefinitely…as long as these men need me because I can help them.
"Em! Em! Dr Almighty needs you!"
"What?"
"His Majesty, Lord of the Hospital, has requested the presence of his newfound right-hand-woman in his office."
Oh I wonder what he wants…God I hope that Mary isn't jealous at all, I mean to be honest I'm just as astounded as she probably is in is change of behaviour. "Ok, let me just finished stitching this….there you go, John that should be sufficient. I will be back later to check your vitals."
"Thank you, Nurse Roberts."
"You're very welcome."
"So, what does Dr Almighty want with you?"
"I have no idea. To be honest, I'm just trying to wrap my head around his mood swings."
"Yes, I had noticed that he seems to be treating you with a new-found respect – you haven't slept with him have you?"
Jesus does she have no respect? How is it that she always manages to say exactly what's on her mind with no restraint?...Mind you, I guess that's just why she's such a good friend sometimes. You always know exactly where you are with her.
"No! Of course I haven't! I can't believe that you'd assume that – do you even know me?"
"Alright, alright, chill out. I mean, can you blame me? We go out nearly every week and I introduce you to these wonderful men and you just turn them all down…what am I supposed to think?"
I can't laugh…I can't laugh, this is serious…she's just accused me of bedding my boss. God why does she always make me laugh?
"How about that I don't have time for a man right now? I'm just not interested in that sort of thing at the moment."
"Ok, ok…"
"I'm serious."
"Yes, ok."
"I am."
"I'll see you later," she grinned mischievously, marching off and leaving me stranded outside Dr Phillips' office door.
I paused to take a deep breath, trying to suppress my whirlwind morning and not reflect too much on the events which had unfurled over the past few weeks. For some reason, my subconscious was telling me that this was going to be a significant moment. I knocked.
"Come in." The deep, husky voice protruded through the oak doors and I stepped inside.
In all the time I have worked at the hospital, I cannot believe that I have never once been inside this room. The desk was backed against the far wall, parallel to three large, dirt-stained windows. The bookcases were piled high with all manner of medical journals and a large mirror reflected the room back on itself. I walked slowly towards the sleep-deprived figure hunched over his desk, his glasses at the tip of his nose as he perused a piece of paper. Without being asked, I took the seat opposite him and awaited his attention in silence. When he finally looked up, I was shocked to find his eyes puffy with distinguishable black bags beneath them and his hair ruffled and unkempt. He must be sleeping even less than myself!
"You wanted to see me, Doctor?"
"Yes, Miss Roberts. I would offer you a seat, but I can see that you have already taken one."
I shifted uncomfortably, inwardly cursing myself for my presumptuous crassness, and felt my cheeks turning a deep shade of red.
"I called you in here to discuss your future with this hospital."
He can't fire me! Oh please God I've worked far too hard for this chance, I can't lose it now. I need this job, not just for my livelihood but for my own personal satisfaction – this is what I live for, helping people. Please, please, please don't take this away from me. What will I tell Mary, my parents…Mother will probably say that she told me so and cart me off to some rich man to marry. God that can't happen! I anxiously grappled with myself, struggling to collect my panicked thoughts.
"I apologise if I have done anything wrong, Doctor, but it's just been a tough few weeks here, but-"
"Well it's about to get a hell of a lot tougher, I'm afraid."
My mouth went dry and I couldn't speak.
"This is classified information and I would appreciate it if you kept it to yourself, but, contrary to popular belief, this war is far from over. In fact, new reports the government have received indicate that it is only in its infancy."
I knew things could only get worse. Why couldn't the government just tell us straight for once! I wonder how Dr Phillips found out about all this…
"This means that the future of this hospital is increasingly dim. As much as I hate to admit it, the Inspector was right – London's main hospitals would be more beneficial recovery environments for our patients and we have to consider what is best for the patients. There they will receive greater degrees of medical attention and fresh imports of supplies mean the standard of treatment will be higher. You therefore have a choice."
"A choice, Sir?"
"I have been asked by recent scouts of His Majesty's Army to suggest doctors and nurses who are the best at their job."
"I don't understand."
"Yes you do. You have a choice. You can either join the distinguished doctors at London's Royal Infirmary or you can join the medical corps and travel to France to be a nurse at the front."
Shit! What the hell am I supposed to do? This is such a tremendous opportunity and either way I will be able to continue helping people who need it most, but which direction should I take. For some reason, the only person I could think of at that moment was Mary.
"Will Mary be extended the same opportunity?"
"There is no question that Mary is an extremely talented nurse, but do you believe that she would be able to handle the pressure of working at the front? Understand that it will be the hardest challenge you will ever face. You will be placed in situations beyond your wildest reckonings, be confronted with horrors you will barely be able to speak of afterwards. Some injuries it will be impossible to cure, but you will not be able to say anything and instead will have to hold a soldier's hand while he dies. You will have supplies and equipment even less adequate than this and it will therefore test your abilities to the maximum."
I won't be able to do this without Mary. It's just so much to take in. He can't expect my answer right now…Jesus, what do I do?
"Can I think about this decision, please? It's very important that I make the right one."
"I can only give you a day. Tomorrow the army is leaving London. Unfortunately modern times do not allow for time enough to think."
"Thank you, Doctor. May I also speak with Mary about this?"
"Very well. Now back to work – we are thoroughly…busy…" He trailed off deep in thought. Realising that I would get no more information out of him that day, I decided to leave in silence, his proposal spinning through my mind.
The air was rank with the stench of blood and urine. Upon the thick, bloodied breeze, were the intense cries of men as they clung to whatever life they had left, screeching in willing efforts to remain alive. The ones who wanted to die, who chose to give up, had their life sucked from them noiselessly. She had never seen anything like it. The nurse charged between the rows of beds with renewed urgency, her aching heart pulsating in her neck, propelling her towards her next patient. There would never be a time when she would be used to such unsanitary and heart-wrenching conditions. She moved towards the next bed. Blood oozed through his recently applied headdress. He had just arrived from the front line. His face was contorted with fear. His tibia, brittle and yellowing, protruded from the mesh of red and tissue which barely resembled a leg. She knew he didn't have long. Once, a long time ago, she would have panicked. Tears would have poured in uncontrollable streams down her face and she would have buried her head, looked away and tried not to retch at the scenes before her. She may have appeared heartless, but in truth she was just used to such a situation.
"Bitte!" He cried out blindly, his hand searching blackness for something, someone he could hold on to.
She was there in a heartbeat. Her warm fingers closed around his clammy palm. She ignored all else around her. For a moment, it was just her and this soldier in a moment together. This was his moment; he had earned that much.
"Bitte." He whispered quieter than before, closing his hand tighter around her own as an appreciative gesture, though he didn't even know who she was.
She observed him tenderly as his eyelids fluttered, his breathing steadying in response to her welcoming hand.
"Bitte!" He urged suddenly, pulling her towards him.
Her breathing quickened as she leant, inches from his beaten face. He gently spread her hand and placed it firmly on his chest, which was growing heavier with each breath. He took a long rasping breath and then whispered in her ear, barely audible amongst the calamity around them.
"Danke...danke."
Having said his last words, he slipped out of consciousness forever. His grip loosened on her hand and she moved slowly so she might close his eyes. Had she had more time, she would have sat by his bedside for some time, but, cruel as it was, soldiers arrived to remove his body and she moved on to the next bed.