I have not seen a single American nurse so far as I know, and I have not visited a single hospital and don’t mean to. This morning I went to pay my respects to the British Matron-in-Chief. She was less formidable than the last time I saw her and was really quite cordial. She took me to see General Goodwin, who is to be Director General of the medical forces and who has recently returned from the States. He was most charming and I had a delightful talk with him. I was glad of a chance to tell these British officials how fortunate we think we are to have been sent to work with the British, and to tell them how we have appreciated all the innumerable courtesies they have shown us and the way they have helped us.
E. and I have had lunch down town one day and we have had her mother-in-law and brother-in-law here to dinner. I have had a splendid real shampoo for the first time since we left London last June. We have several pleasant little things planned to do next week, but I like best just sitting around here on real, soft-cushioned sofas. E.’s two little boys are darlings. I don’t see them much as most of the time they are off with “nurse.” Jim is four and a half now and John just two.
You see I am having a wonderful rest. Good night, and loads of love.
Jule.
Rouen, March 14, 1918.
Here I am back with my children, very happy that I am not to return to the States, and perfectly content to stay here where I know I am needed and can be of use. The future is on the lap of the gods. If I get orders to go to Paris, or anywhere else, I will go, leaving these dear people with the greatest regret. But I have nothing to worry about and can go about my work with the greatest peace.
We are having a great number of the most pitiful cases these last few nights; gassed men in terrible condition. Nearly three hundred the last two nights, and a hundred and fifty due to-night. Major Murphy said that last night’s convoy was the worst he has seen since we have been here. Ambulance load after ambulance load of stretcher cases with bandaged eyes and burning lungs. The men tell awful stories of whole companies affected so that not a man, an officer, or a doctor is able to do a thing for anybody else. It seems to be a new kind of gas. At any rate the effects seem to be different from those we have observed before. The masks have not seemed to protect the men. We have had so many put on the Seriously Ill and Dangerously Ill lists to-day, Miss Taylor has been writing letters to families all day.
March 18, 1918.
Dearest Mother:—
It is such heavenly weather here and things are so beautiful. Everything is quiet and happy and peaceful here with us though our work seems to be increasing pretty steadily. I cannot help feeling more or less agitated inside, for I know that an order to leave this Unit and go to Paris may come any minute. When the order actually arises, there is not going to be anything but approval, I think, among my nurses as far as my action and my duty go—for they’ll know this is an order and not a choice in any way—but there is going to be a bad time when it comes to parting. I dread it fearfully, for I know they all care for me and won’t want me to go from a personal point of view, and I shall feel dreadfully about leaving them. We have all been through so much together we feel very close. Same way about the officers. I shall hate to leave them. But it is coming. Phil won’t like it either.