A Volunteer Nurse on the Western Front by Olive Dent Read Free Book Online Page A

‘number nine’ to every sturdy person present, and then, we considered, a benignant deity looks after people’s tummies at Christmas time, so we stilled our many qualms, and next morning no one was a whit the worse.
    On Christmas Day the Australian unit near us presented some religious tableaux, a manger scene, the Three Shepherds, the arrival of the Wise Men, and so on. The tableaux were most beautifully staged, especially considering we are on active service, but Australia in play is just as Australia is in work, very thorough, very effective, and, – despite the almost always negative state of conditions, – she always ‘gets there.’
    Christmas-boxes? Lots of the boys hung up their stockings, and we put in something for each patient in our ward, even if it were only a khaki handkerchief or a piece of fancy soap, with, of course, always a packet or tin of cigarettes. All our bunks for two or three days before Christmas were sights to behold,– scarcely fighting room for the inhabitant herself, what with bundles of mittens, notebooks, pencils, comforters, scarves, packets of sweets, smokes, etc., etc. Visitors got no farther than the door for the best of reasons. By the way, one patient hung up his – well, as a matter of fact – his pants, and wrote a letter to Santa Claus, asking for Blighty tickets as his Christmas-box, but next morning – ‘Narpoo, no bon’ – the chimney wasn’t wide enough and Santa Claus had presumably passed by. Later on, however, round came the major, felt the man’s toes, asked him if his feet felt numb, etc., etc. Then ‘C sitting, sister, please’ – and the man had got his Christmas-box, and, what is more, was on his way Blighty-wards within two hours.
    We ourselves were not so fortunate with Christmas-boxes. For the sake of war economy a Christmas parcel from home was all we allowed ourselves, and great fun we had warming up large plum-puddings over small spirit-stoves, and Blighty mince-pies over biscuit-tin lids held over the aforesaid stoves. Primitive sort of réchauffé, but excellent good they all were, which is typical of the perverse, contrary way cooking has.

Chapter IX
Housekeeping on Active Service
    THIS EXTRAORDINARY WAR is in many ways surprisingly ordinary. Men who have dreamed of the panoply of mediaeval war, of the clash and clang of strife, of galloping chargers and uplifted steel find themselves standing in a sodden trench where, for days and days, they never have an opportunity of seeing a German. Or, worse still, they are miles behind the line installing telephones and electric lights. Women who have felt themselves uplifted by the deeds of those pioneers in the Crimean War are called on to housekeep! And yet, of course, electric lights are required, and nursing staffs must be fed, and the practice of putting each man and woman to their trade will in no way mar the efficiency of things.
    The nursing quarters of most of the camp hospitalsin France consist of a wooden hut for the mess-and-sitting-room – by the way, it is almost solely the one and very rarely the other, – a shed of some kind for the cook’s kitchen, and bell tents, marquees, Alwyn huts, Armstrong huts, and wooden huts for the housing of the staff.
    In the early days, some of our nursing sisters had improvised bedrooms from the loose boxes which were near us, in virtue of our being on a race-course. Later, when tents and huts materialised at a quicker rate, these were left for the accommodation of the batmen. Bell tents and marquees were always very popular, being absolutely delightful in summer and very cosy in winter with the aid of stoves. Some nurses who had thoroughly enjoyed life in a marquee during the winter of 1915–1916 were in a rebellious mood at having to go into a hut for some weeks during the winter of 1916–1917.
    It was wonderful how pretty and comfortable bunks and bell tents could be made. All the furniture was of the packing-box variety; indeed, once installed, and