NOTE. This entry was not included in the published diaries.
Thursday November 23rd 1939
Archie reached his limit today. We were doing a laparotomy – Kay was assisting and Archie was anaesthetist. The lower cellars, as I think I’ve said before, are deep ones with vaulted ceilings, built as a stronghold for the chateau’s wine supply. But the wail of the siren still penetrates.
In retrospect, I can see that Archie, usually first with a witty – or more often sardonic – remark about the War, our living conditions and especially our rations, has been much quieter these last few days. But of any of us thought about it, we put it down to tiredness – we are all bone-tired.
Anyway, we were about three-quarters through the operation when we heard the siren wail. The anti-aircraft guns started up almost immediately. While we couldn’t hear the drone of planes, we felt the thud of a bomb falling near, and then another. Dust fell from the ceiling and the door to the stairs flew open. Kay observed, unnecessarily, that the bombs seemed to be getting closer.
“How much longer?” Archie sounded as though his teeth were gritted. “The sooner we are out of here, the better.”
I told him ten minutes or so, just while I caught the last few bleeders. In truth, I was curious about Archie’s reaction – he had worked through raids before and had never seemed especially bothered by the noise. And while the reinforced basement and trench shelters used by staff and patients alike were good ones, we were far more likely to survive a direct hit where we were. I pointed this out to Archie.
“We could still be buried alive. Or drowned, if a water main goes! Look at us – risking our lives for just one soldier who may not make it anyway!”
I was about to say that that was what we did when there was a huge explosion, obviously somewhere within the hospital. The lights went out. We heard Archie scream and I felt him rush past me. When the emergency generator kicked in and we had light once more, there was so sign of him.
I admit I swore at that point. But at least I still had Kay and she proved her worth that afternoon. On my instructions, she pushed the necessary instruments within my reach before going to check the patient. Thankfully, Archie had already prepared the drugs we needed.
“Marvellous! You see, Sister Anderson, anyone can be an anaesthetist!”
“I wouldn’t let Dr Rhodes hear you say that!”
“True, she can be quite vicious when provoked …”
At this point, Archie returned to the theatre with a mumbled “Sorry” and resumed his place at the operating table.
“Dr Clark, nice of you to join us again. Sister Anderson’s been doing a sterling job in your absence.”
The All Clear sounded as just as I was putting in the last suture.
Kay held her temper in check until the orderlies had taken the patient back to the ward. Then she marched up to Archie and slapped him heavily across the face.
“You selfish sod! How could you? You know there are nurses up there on the wards who had to stay put with the patients who couldn’t be taken to the shelters? Suppose they had run away like you did? They know they risk being blown to bits and they still stay! You should be ashamed!”
She hurried off.
Archie was looking stunned and – a word I’d never have associated with him, vulnerable. I felt my own anger ebb away and put a hand on his shoulder. He looked at me ruefully.
“I’m sorry, so sorry. I just lost it.” He rubbed his face. “I deserved that.”
I caught up with Kay in main hospital corridor, talking to one of the other nurses and looking relieved. Thankfully, the bomb had hit one of the rehabilitation wards and everyone had gone to shelter. So no deaths, no injuries, “not so much as a broken fingernail”, I was told. Just one hell of a mess to clear up. May we always be so lucky.
I offered to make Kay a cup of tea. She laughed, saying that my tea tasted like cat’s wee, and that she’d make us a proper brew. We sat at a table in the Mess, thinking about the afternoon. She was still angry at what she saw – understandably – as Archie’s cowardice.
“It’s no excuse to say he’s frightened. We’re all frightened. Downright bloody terrified if you must know. Oh, I’m not going to say anything. It won’t help if he gets sent back to England and I know he’s meant to be good at what he does. But unless we all pull together …”
“I’m not going to say anything, either.” I told her. “We all have our moments – I just pray mine don’t come when I’m on duty.”
At this moment, Jack put his head round the door.
“Thought I’d find you here. Incoming, ladies!”
“That’ll be the aftermath of the raid.” Kay considered her still half-full mug. “One of these days we’ll get to drink our tea while it’s hot!”
Vanessa's War 