Читать книгу Our Bit: Memories of War Service by a Canadian Nursing-Sister - Mabel B. Clint - Страница 18

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After the First Canadian Expeditionary Force landed at St. Nazaire in February, 1915, that port was closed as a military base, another substituted for the next reinforcements, as was the custom, so that enemy espionage might be baffled in preparing its reports to Berlin. With the curious casualness of selection of individuals, which seemed to be the rule rather than the exception in the army, a medical officer was left behind to forward stores, pay bills, settle business with the French authorities, and generally check over records. One of the transports had run aground in a gale, and had lain at the mercy of the sea for twenty-four hours, with a result of nine serious cases of pneumonia, and thirty surgical casualties. As the Canadians had already entrained for the front, these were sent to one of the large French Emergency Hospitals, which had been commandeered in western France. This one had been a Boys’ School, barrack-like buildings surrounding a great square, and the Principal and his wife retained their living quarters. In it were congregated one hundred patients in one long dormitory, lying on beds with only boots and uniform tunics removed, and the windows shut continually! We had seen some French Red Cross Stations at Paris Plage, where minor cases were “bedded out” in rooms a foot deep in straw. Water and air were unlooked-for luxuries, uniforms unchanged, towels, soap etc., in common. After playing cards amid the straw most of the day, the men just rolled over in rows to their communal places at night.

At St. Nazaire there were beds, but little equipment, no nursing, and no trained orderlies. The patients who could walk fetched and carried for the bed-ridden. A Count, recovering from his own wound, saw that the food was distributed, and a College Professor—a private in the ranks, did the odd jobs. The English M.O. above referred to, charge-d’affaires as he already was, being notified of forty British sick, and seeing the environment, not unnaturally decided that a number of burials would be added to his duties, and telegraphed forthwith for nurses.

Three of us were detailed from No. 2 to report for the next train. Hastily packing belongings, for we never knew when we should see them again, we travelled to Paris, and a long, next day’s journey via Tours, Nantes, through some of the chateau country to St. Nazaire. We could not enjoy the scenery however, as a ten-seat coach accommodated sixteen to eighteen, some refugees, some reservists going to their stations, etc. It was impossible to change position, and foot-room was strictly limited. The English doctor met us with undisguised relief, and over a café dinner explained the situation. He had succeeded very tactfully in having the Canadian patients separated, the nine pneumonias being in a little class-room, with two windows that opened! Three R.A.M.C. men had come from Paris to act as orderlies. Well-trained and capable, they were a great asset under the circumstances. The Englishman was not attending the Canadians, the French army doctors being in charge of all, and were doing their best for our men, but their procedure was likely to differ from what we had been taught. He counseled us to carry on as our own nursing experience dictated, only being careful not to offend the French. Also he warned us that diet was a difficult question, unless we could solve it by buying extras and cooking them in the wards. “Liquid diet” consisted of a pint of milk with soda water placed beside each man in the morning. If by evening he had consumed it—bien! If not, not so good! Ordinary diet was soup served at 11 A.M., and another supply, containing a few vegetables, with a slice of black bread at 4 P.M. (I refer only to this station, which of course may not have been typical of Emergency hospitals elsewhere in France.)

We were then introduced to the Professor and his wife, its peace-time heads at the College, and took a cursory glance at our two wards. One of the three volunteered for night-duty at once, several of the pneumonias being on the danger list, and the other two retired to the room of the Professor’s son, who was absent at the front. After several episodes in the long corridors and staircases, reminiscent of Scutari and “the Lady with the lamp”, we got our bearings, and decided that this was a new chapter in nursing adventure as well as domestic arrangements.

The place was indeed a caravanserai. There were convalescent French, conscripts reporting for their battalions, German prisoners exercising in the yard, soldiers returning from leave, and it was Reserve Headquarters. The lack of class in the French nation was manifest; they were one family. Dressers and ambulance men assisted the doctors when they made rounds. The Mayor’s wife and other Croix Rouge ladies were responsible for medical supplies, and came every day to make them. They were most cordial; “Les infirmières Canadiennes” received many flowers, and had photos taken every other day with some group, even though no doubt they thought our methods somewhat “mad”, a failing of all English-speaking people! One Sister took charge of the fracture cases in a separate Ward, and the night-duty Sister gave her attention to both medical and surgical patients, having her own humourous excursions and episodes, were she to relate them.

With a spirit-lamp, a saucepan and a boy’s desk, the light diet necessary for the pneumonias was provided, but the doctors looked askance at custards, egg-nogs, etc., and one morning remarked dubiously to our Englishman who had dropped in to see us unofficially, “But the nurses, they give them to eat!” Equal to the occasion, our champion answered promptly: “Well you see, I understand that in Canada they have a different type of pneumonia lasting much longer, and so it is a rule to feed patients sooner, figurez-vous?” etc. The entente cordiale was saved. Much amazed, but making a note for future reference—after the war—our Frenchman accepted the explanation, and, if he continued to eye the “diet” with disapproval, said nothing more. Their horror of the open windows however never ceased. (And it certainly was bleak and blustery that March.) The shrugs, the ejaculations, shaking of heads, hands raised to heaven and verbal protests said: “Mais, Mademoiselle, in a sense they are your responsibility, your compatriots. On the other hand, it is nearly a dozen men for the Allied armies being prematurely frozen to death, and we, as French physicians,”—etc. A corporal used to be sent twenty minutes ahead, who solemnly thrust his head inside, saluted, marched to the casements and firmly fastened them. We then prepared for morning rounds.

Presently the door was swung open with a flourish, and the Medical Chief entered, with his assistant, one or two students, and some ambulance men. The procession halted just inside the door, and the doctor and students, removing their military caps, bowed profoundly, never seeming to regard us as being also of the army. After these ceremonies and greetings, the patients were examined, and as no stethoscopes were used, even the most dangerously ill were obliged to sit up in bed to be percussed and auscultated. Remarks were audibly expressed about the probable fatal outcome, and the man in the next bed shivered with alarm as we turned to him. The centigrade thermometer, about ten inches long, and one inch thick was a nuisance to translate to our English charts, but we used both.

Before we arrived all but one of the men had been ‘cupped’, and the English doctor hoped the last would escape, as he did not advise it. I therefore hid the set of cups between the mattresses of an empty bed. Lying in soiled woollen shirts, restless, and with high temperatures, some of the men’s backs were irritated and even bleeding when we first saw them. When, on the first morning, the French M.O. wished to treat the ninth patient, long was the search for the bulbs. No trace of them being forthcoming, the application was postponed, and never took place. They remained concealed till we were ready to depart, when one of our English orderlies surreptitiously removed them to a corner of a distant corridor, where, when found, they formed no doubt, one of the minor mysteries of the war in St. Nazaire! But the doctors were kind and courteous, and when the men began to improve, and had energy enough to be amused, they thought “Rounds” as good as an act in a vaudeville show, so that I often had to suppress incipient giggles from the beds.

I never nursed any French or Germans, but other Canadian nurses did, and found the majority of the latter sullen and resentful. As for the poilus, while accepting attention gratefully, they were certainly of the opinion that most of it was fussy and unnecessary, and in the matter of air and water their attitude was one of resignation! I never had an opportunity of seeing one of the regular French hospitals, where the wounded were served with devotion and skill, but in the others the larger part of the attendance was of the untrained voluntary type. Many French women served very close to the firing-line, and unrecorded deeds of heroism were done every day.

One afternoon when the patients were all convalescent, and sitting up, the French corporal suddenly darted in, with an exasperated: “Encore les fenêtres!”, which he shut hastily. The unexpected visitor was the Army Medical Chief on a tour of inspection. After introductions, and the usual compliments, the great man was conducted to the four most interesting cases, who had been expected to die. After much gesture, and staccato explanation, and pointing at the charts, the ward M.O. declared: “This one, now, you see, he was finished there... it was not reasonable to diagnose recovery. Mais, enfin, he is cured. And the nurse has given them all sorts of diet, baths in the bed! WINDOWS OPEN NIGHT AND DAY!!” The chief looked nonplussed, the inevitable shrug and uplifted hands followed, when our M.O. remarked, as an afterthought “Pourtant ce sont les Canadiens.” “Eh bien!” exclaimed the visitor, welcoming a complete solution of the problem, “in that case....” more rapid fire comment, probably on the vagaries of Canadian pneumonia, and with repeated flourishes and farewells they departed. So did we, a few days later, leaving the English orderlies to carry on, having completed a satisfactory little job of medical nursing. Passing through Paris again, we met some Canadian Sisters who had been taken to police headquarters and interrogated, as it appeared six German spies dressed in Red Cross uniform, had just been captured. We escaped scrutiny as we were known at the Hotel N...., and our “duty” orders had been registered a month previously.

Being without the many comforts which supplemented the bare necessities of the army equipment in our own hospitals, made us realize the value of the British Red Cross Society, and its ceaseless provision, not only for the immense needs of its own nationals, but for all the Allies in their various fields. Their gifts were to be found everywhere, and the St. John’s Ambulance Brigade was a close second in service. V.A.D. nurses too often rendered splendid assistance, especially in the final year in France, and staffed many Convalescent Hospitals, at home.

I would venture, with diffidence, to make a suggestion. I believe the Canadian Red Cross supplies were second only to the British Red Cross, and were invaluable. But in spite of that fact they were often not enough. In another war I would say ‘quantity before quality’. I mean that I frequently saw printed comments praising highly and deservedly the beautiful work, neatness, and high quality of material contributed, and individual needlework. But only the nurses in the wards knew the importance of the daily requirements, especially in a rush. The quantity can never be too much, but so long as the garments are strong, fine sewing, which occupied the time in which a second article could be made, was unnecessary. The first time a shirt was used possibly it had to be cut open, also pyjama coats. And as there were practically never cloths or old cotton for cleaning, hemmed Red Cross handkerchiefs, etc. were frequently and unavoidably substituted.... On active service much is spoiled as it is used, or lost, and never seen again.

Among Canadian Agencies whose generous gifts and supplies were constantly met with throughout the war, must be gratefully remembered the Imperial Order Daughters of the Empire, whose organised patriotism from coast to coast made our women’s contribution to winning the war an invaluable service on a great scale.

About this time I had the opportunity of visiting the Scottish Women’s Hospital, on the Race-course at Rouen, where women surgeons and physicians worked for long hours and with very successful results over the first military patients ever allotted to them. I thought their tents were the most comfortable and attractive wards I had seen.