(Photo, Reginald Haines)
Twice, perhaps, a lull occurred in the convoys coming from overseas, and the return of empty beds rose to two hundred or so. The nursing staff would begin to complain of being slack, but such periods of quiet were followed by rushes of work, when two or three or four convoys would arrive in twenty-four hours, and every effort had to be made to discharge or transfer convalescents and make room for new-comers. As a rule, at busy times every bed emptied during the day was filled at night. On one such night, when four beds were returned, four fractured spines were sent in a few hours later.
A big bell hung in the square, and the arrival of a convoy was notified to the staff by two blows on it. This brought out those whose duty it was to assist in taking in. Doctors, women stretcher-bearers and R.A.M.C. assembled without delay; for it was necessary to hasten and let the ambulances get back to the station for a second journey. The staff of men orderlies being small, the women were all trained as bearers. The men would unload the stretcher and hold it, while women stepped between the handles and carried it to the lift and so to the bedside. Stretcher bearing was a popular occupation, and if the bell rang during the day, volunteers would run out of the stores and offices and laboratories and fall in with the R.A.M.C. The man on the stretcher was often speechless with astonishment when he realised that two ‘flappers’ were carrying him; but they were very steady, gentle bearers, and earned high praise for the way in which they performed their duties.
Out of twenty-six thousand patients who passed through the wards, the greater number were British, with a fair proportion of Dominion and Colonial troops. Two thousand two hundred and seven Canadians and more than two thousand Australian and New Zealand men and about two hundred U.S.A. troops made up this proportion. They had the same cheerful spirit as the men in Paris and Wimereux. They settled down to enjoy the amenities of the hospital with apparently little thought for the past or the future, entering into the hospital life with zest and pleasure; and their contentment and gaiety were pleasant to see. Within an hour of coming in, new-comers learnt that it was ‘a good home’ and that the doctors were women. They showed no surprise, but were wont to develop amazing confidence in the ward doctors and to discuss the merits of the various surgeons in the square. Each man thought his ward the best ward in the hospital, and his doctor the best doctor on the staff; and many boasted to visitors and at tea-parties that the worst cases in the hospital were in their ward and under their doctor. The dental surgeon, whose skill in extraction was considered marvellous, never failed to thrill the men, and she was eagerly pointed out to friends or visitors. The ophthalmic surgeon excited interest too, for she was the victim of a false report, which supposed her to have broken more windows than any other suffragist!
Only once did a man ask to be transferred on the ground that he did not wish to be under a woman surgeon, but he repented of his decision and sent his mother to ask that he might remain. More than once, a transfer was offered in certain cases, in order that the patient might be treated by a man; but this was invariably refused, the patient feeling perfectly satisfied where he was. Their confidence in the Chief Surgeon was unbounded. She never operated without telling the patient what she was going to do, and she never omitted to see him afterwards and talk over the operation. Between the hours of 5 and 7 P.M. was a quiet and very useful time in the wards, when she would visit all the more severe cases and give them time to talk about themselves. She would explain clearly the surgical situation and what she advised and why. She never hurried a man in his decision, unless it were urgent; but waited, gentle and reassuring, until he would say, ‘I leave it to you, Doctor; if you think it’s best, I’ll have it done.’
The men were reticent and inarticulate, but they trusted her. They wrote to her afterwards for advice; and pensioners were known to travel from Scotland and other distant places to get her opinion. In the same way, they believed in and trusted the ward surgeons and the Sisters, and realised that every one in the building desired their welfare and happiness. There was a homeliness in the wards and in the men’s relations with the nursing staff which was soothing and welcome to them after their experiences.
Racial characteristics were very evident. The English were slow and phlegmatic, satisfied with theatres, billiards and the football news. The Scots were friends with the librarian and always pushing to get well enough to see London. The Irish brought grace and charm into the ward, but each one was the Irish question intact. Their grievances were as unexpected as they were incomprehensible. As a rule, they were anxious to be transferred to Irish hospitals, and the necessary steps having been taken, Pte. Doolan would receive instructions to draw his kit and prepare himself. Then he would go grumbling up and down the ward.
‘But I thought you wanted to go to Ireland,’ said an astonished orderly.
‘So I do,’ he replied. ‘But I think this is very hard.’ And in response to further probing, ‘Well, I did ask to go, but I wasn’t expecting to go—not this week.’
Or one would present himself in the C.O.’s office.