It has been horrendous enough to see the effects of war on people one doesn’t know. This morning was in some ways even worse, because it came closer to home.
Graham and I were “off duty”, which meant in reality that we were sitting in the mess, writing up patient notes. Rosie and Kay were also there making tea and talking quietly. We couldn’t hear what they were saying, or Graham would never have asked whether there was any tea going spare for a hard-working doctor. But he did and Kay – quiet Kay! – slammed down her mug in front of him and told him in no uncertain terms that she wasn’t a BLOODY handmaiden and he could make his OWN BLOODY TEA! She then stormed off leaving us both open-mouthed.
Graham was about to chase after her, but Rosie stopped him to convey the sad news that Kay’s husband had been reported missing. Allan had been serving on the Merchant Navy ship SS Whitewater, part of a convoy torpedoed by the Bear five days ago. The Whitewater went down with most of her crew; a few survivors had been picked up but so far Allan was not amongst them. And Kay had only found out this morning when a telegram from her mother finally made it through to the hospital.
Rosie was upset herself – they are close friends and she was at Kay’s wedding two years ago. She said Allan was a lovely man and very proud of ‘netting’ the girl he considered to be the prettiest nurse in the entire hospital. And now Kay was insisting on doing her shift that afternoon because Allan wouldn’t want her to neglect her duties, but she (Rosie) thought Kay needed time to grieve and this was a horrible, stinking war and if she had the power to send every Bear submarine to the bottom of the ocean …
Graham made her a mug of tea. I wished I had my hip flask on me, because I think we all needed a drink by that point. Instead, I went to tell the padre what had happened and to see whether he might offer some spiritual support for Kay. Where Kay herself had gone was a mystery (I found out later she had taken herself off to one of the trench shelters dug in the hospital grounds and where she was unlikely to be disturbed).
And then, in sharp contrast, a case that I might have dealt with in my old life.
I had just returned to the mess to collect my notes – Rosie had gone but Graham was still sitting there – when Matron Pym bustled in to say there was another new admission for me to see. When I reached the ward, I found a bearded soldier in the end bed with his uniform jacket slung across his shoulders. His face was a rictus of pain, but I could see no blood or obvious injury. Matron Pym handed me his notes and walked off into the main ward with a brisk, “I’ll leave you with Nurse Snell.”
As soon as she had gone, the patient beckoned me over and whispered in my ear. Almost any soldier who feels well enough to notice likes to see a pretty young nurse on duty, but Susan Snell looks about fifteen and even a cursory glance at this patient’s notes made me guess that his embarrassment almost outweighed his pain. I asked her to leave us for a moment and pulled the screens around the bed.
“Okay then, what’s the trouble?”
The “trouble” was what the soldier described as his “meat and two veg” being “proper red and swollen.” It sounds funny, but testicular torsion – which is what it turned out to be – is exquisitely painful and the poor man’s scream when I examined him was probably heard in the ward next door. His terror at the prospect of surgery was somewhat relieved at the prospect of coming round from the anaesthetic in less pain. He was also worried about his ‘usefulness’ after the operation. I assured him there was no reason why he shouldn’t remain as useful as any man ever is …
I asked Susan to prepare him for surgery that afternoon and to call in Joe for what he describes as his Barber of Seville skills. And reassured the patient that no, he wasn’t going to be denuded of his beautiful beard.
(Later)
You can never be sure when your day is finally at an end, even when, like today, there has been a lull in the fighting. Often, when I do manage to get to bed, I am too tired to sleep, despite the whisky. Tonight, I needed some fresh – or at least some different – air, so decided to check up on the ward. The men, including my torsion case, were either fast asleep or still unconscious from late evening surgery.
I went in search of the night sister and found her busy in Matron’s office, filing patient notes.
Would I have gone had I known Alice was on duty that night? We hadn’t been alone together for ten years, had hardly exchanged a word even since we came to the Château, and yet I understood in that moment that some things never go away, that feelings can stay with you forever – and must be fought forever or threaten the very foundations of your life. The world stood still, time stood suspended … and then Alice turned towards me smiling.
If she had any idea how I was feeling she didn’t reveal it. Instead, she indicated the freshly-brewed pot of tea on the desk. “Tea? I’m sorry there aren’t any biscuits. Although if the last lot the kitchen sent down were anything to go by …”
I accepted a mug of tea and began to explain that I was only there to check up on the day’s cases, but the words wouldn’t come out properly. And my confusion must have been all too apparent because Alice reached out, running her finger along my eyebrow and down my cheek – an old gesture.
“I know you have settled down with Lydia and that you are happy together.” she said. “I don’t want to do anything to threaten that. But it’s hard. I still miss you. All these years and I’ve never forgotten you …” I heard the ache in her voice as she tilted up my chin to kiss me.
And then Fate intervened with an anguished cry of “Nurse! … NURSE!” Alice sighed, but headed out of the office to investigate. I followed her in case I was needed but it was only a patient half-waking from a nightmare. (Although ‘only’? I dread to think what some of these men may have witnessed.) So I left her to reassure him and returned to my room.
Am I glad or sorry we were disturbed? I know I should be glad but … I honestly don’t know.
Where do we go from here?
Vanessa's War 