Agnes Warner and the Nursing Sisters of the Great War (12 page)

The day we went to Dunkirk we saw a lot of armoured cars. Such curious looking things they are — some are painted with blotches of yellow and green and gray and red and brown so they cannot be distinguished from the landscape. We saw lots of English troops. I looked in vain for Canadians, but they are not far off.

It has been awfully cold so far and rains most of the time. We have decided that we shall just keep putting on clothes like the Italians do in winter and never take anything off.

We get wounded every day, sometimes not more than half a dozen, but as they are almost all seriously wounded we are kept busy.

There have been so many troops moving on lately that we thought we would be left without anything to do. We have orders not to do anything that is not absolutely necessary as we may have to move also.

I believe the hospital at Divonne has been taken over by the nuns. I miss the lovely flowers that I had there. I share a small room with two other nurses and there is not much room to spare. We have boxes put up on end for tables and wash stands, and there is only one chair. Some of the nurses have tents, two in each.

We have had a terrible busy week. All the new ones that came into my ward lived only thirty-six or forty-eight hours — they were too far gone to save. Five went away cured and they really were cases to be proud of.

I think it was the sweetest thing of little Mary Murray to send me her birthday money for my soldiers. I have been getting them fruit and cigarettes for Sunday. That is the thing that overwhelms me at times — the awful suffering every way one turns. Dorothy Thompson sent me £5, much to my joy.

Last night I could not sleep for the noise of the guns; they must have been bombarding some place near at hand, for the whole earth seemed to shake.

The boys who drive the American ambulance and bring our patients in say this place is a sort of heaven to them, they are always glad to get here. Mrs. T___[Turner?] does everything she can for them. They are a nice lot of boys and are doing good work.

Some of the poor men who have lost large pieces of their intestines find the hospital diet a little hard.

November 7, 1915

Mobile No. 1

Letter writing is done under difficulties here. I have gone to bed in order to keep warm and have a small lantern with a candle in to light the paper.

November 15, 1915

I did not get any further with my letter for the kitty insisted upon playing with the candle and I was afraid we would have a fire, and since then I have been so busy I have not had a minute. We have had three glorious days and have appreciated them, I can tell you. It has been so cold and wet we have all been water-logged. As for me, I have no word to express my gratitude for all the friends have sent to me. I am quite overwhelmed with all the gifts of money and supplies, but I shall make good use of them and nothing shall be wasted.

The wool which Mrs. S___ sent turned up yesterday and I have already given half of it to the women in one of the villages here to knit into socks. There is a dear old English colonel who has a soup kitchen near the firing line and he is always looking for socks. He does a great deal of good, for he gets the men when they are carried in from the trenches and gives them hot drinks and hot water bottles, and warm socks when he has them. So many of the men have just straw in their boots and are almost frozen. It makes such a difference if they can get warmed up quickly. Poor souls, they have had a hard time since the heavy rains began. They are brought in here just caked with mud from head to foot.

Oh, how glad I was to get the cheque from the Red Cross Society and the cheque from Miss G___. I have written to her and would like to write long letters to everyone who is so kind, but there is not time.

This ambulance was established by an American lady who then gave it to the French government. The expenses of running it are paid by them, but I think Mrs. Mary Borden Turner pays the nurses and also helps out in the way of extra supplies.

On All Saints Day we went to the little cemetery and decorated the graves of the soldiers who have died in the hospital. There was a special mass and service in the churchyard and the general sent us an invitation. It was pouring rain but I would not have missed it for anything, and I only wish the mothers, wives, and sisters could know how beautiful it all was and how tenderly cared for are the last resting places of their dear ones. It was a picture I shall never forget. The corner of the little churchyard with the forty new graves so close together, each marked with a small wooden cross and heaped high with flowers — the general standing with a group of officers and soldiers all with bared heads — the nurses and one or two of the doctors from the hospital behind them, and then the village people and refugees — hundreds of them, it seemed to me — and the priest giving his lesson — and all the time the rain coming down in torrents and nobody paying any attention to it. There were no dry eyes, and when the general came and shook hands with us afterwards, he could not speak. He is a splendid man, very handsome and a patriot to the backbone — one of the finest types of Frenchmen.

Do not worry about me for I am very well and so glad to be here in spite of the cold and discomforts. Mrs. S___'s socks and bandages have just come.

November 28, 1915

It is bitterly cold here and we feel it more because it is so damp. I can't tell you how thankful I am to be able to get socks and warm things for the men. We can send things to the first dressing station by the ambulances and from there they go to the trenches at once. Mrs. D___'s socks came yesterday, and I sent them off to Colonel Noble, who has the soup kitchen at the front. All Mrs. S___'s have been given away. It was such a good idea to have them white, for they put them on under the others and it often saves the men from being infected by the dye of the stockings.

This morning when I got up my room was like a skating pond, for the moisture had frozen on the floor and the water in the pitcher was solid.
The getting up in the morning is the hardest, but after we get started we do not mind the cold.

The patients have plenty of blankets and hot water bottles, so they do not suffer.

Two Zeppelins went over our head yesterday, but fortunately we are too unimportant to be noticed. I suppose that is one of the reasons they will not let us say where we are, for there are so many spies everywhere that can send information.

An English nurse came yesterday; she has had most interesting experiences. She was in Brussels when it was taken by the Germans and was obliged to take care of German soldiers and officers for some time. She said the officers, as a rule, were brutes, but some of the men were very nice and grateful.

For three days and nights the guns have thundered without ceasing. I wonder what it all means?

My kitty keeps all the seventeen dogs that loaf around here in order. Yesterday she chased a big yellow dog, half St. Bernard, down the main sidewalk of the ambulance. It was a very funny sight, for she was like a little round ball of fury and the poor dog was frightened to death.

December 5, 1915

Last night we had the most awful wind storm. I thought our little hut would be carried over into the German lines. It rained in torrents and the roof leaked, and I could not get my bed away from the drips, so I put up my umbrella and the kitty and I had quite a comfortable night.

Ben Ali, the poor Arab who was so desperately wounded, was up today for the first time.

I have ordered six dozen pair of socks from Paris. My nice old English Colonel Noble (with the soup kitchen) is always clamouring for them. I think he saves lots of the men from having frozen feet.

December 26, 1915

Christmas is over, and in spite of the undercurrent of sadness and the suffering the men had a very happy day. In my ward all but one were well enough to enjoy the tree, and they were like a lot of children with their stockings. Christmas Eve one of the orderlies who was on guard helped me decorate the ward and trim the tree, then we hung up their stockings. They had oranges, sweets, and cigarettes, and some small toys and puzzles and various things of that kind to amuse them.

I had a package for each one in the morning, and, thanks to my good friends at home, was able to give them some nice things. I had a pair of warm socks and gloves for each one, a writing pad and envelopes, pen, pencil, small comb in a case, tooth brush, tooth powder, piece of soap, wash cloth, and a small alcohol lamp with solidified alcohol — a thing made especially for the trenches and which delighted them very much — also a small box of sweets, and to several of the very poor ones I gave a small purse with five francs in it. One poor boy said he had never had such a Christmas in his life; he is one of a family of seven, and says that in times of peace it was all they could do to get enough to eat.

Christmas day at four o'clock the tree was lighted, and one of the many priests who acts as an
infirmier
(male nurse) here came round to the different wards and sang carols. He has a very beautiful voice and was much appreciated by the soldiers. Mrs. Turner then came in, followed by an orderly with a huge hamper containing a present for each man. They had a wonderful dinner, soup, raw oysters (which came from Dunkirk by motor), plum pudding, etc. I could only give my men a bite of pudding to taste it, but they were able to eat the oysters and other things in moderation.

In the other wards, where there were only arms and legs and heads to consider, they had a royal feast. She also gave a grand dinner to all the
infirmiers
and men on the place — had a tree for them and a present for each one. We also had a good dinner and a present for each. She certainly went to a great deal of trouble and made many people happy.

The next day we divided the things on the trees and each man made a package to send home to his children. They were even more delighted to be able to do this than with their own things.

One poor man in my ward was so ill that I was afraid he would die, so I moved his bed to the end of the ward and put screens around it so that he would not be disturbed, and that the others would not be disheartened by seeing him. He was so much better Christmas night that we had great hopes of saving him, but today he died. He was wounded in seven places and one hip was gone. The general came at four o'clock and decorated him. He roused up and saluted and seemed so pleased. In the evening the doctor came to do his dressing and he seemed much better. After the doctor had gone he turned to me and said, “that major knows what he is about, he is a corker.”

Ben Ali, my prize Arab, had a wonderful day. He ate too much and had to stay in bed today, but he has been wrapping and unwrapping his presents and having a fine time. He is just like a child, he is so pleased. He has taken a great fancy to me and asked me to visit him after the war is over.

We had midnight mass on Christmas eve for the
infirmiers
and personnel of the hospital. One of the empty wards was fitted up as a chapel and a Franciscan monk from Montreal officiated. He is on duty here in the
lingerie
and is a splendid man. He is delicate, has some serious heart trouble, so that he need not stay, but he came over to do what he could for his country and his services are invaluable here. His mother was in the north of the country taken by the Germans and he has not been able to get any news of her for more than a year.

We have had orders from headquarters to close all the shutters as soon as the lights are lit, so we feel as if we were shut up in packing cases.

There were a great many aeroplanes flying about today, so I suppose they are expecting an attack of some kind. It is blowing a gale tonight and I feel as if our little shanty would blow over.

January 1, 1916

It is hard to believe that we are beginning another year. If only it will bring a lasting peace! The boxes have not turned up yet, but they doubtless will one of these days, and we will be all the more glad to see them because we have used up everything else.

I expected to go on night duty immediately after Christmas, but we had such sick people in my ward they did not want to make a change just then.

It is blowing a gale again tonight, and raining in torrents; it seems as if it would never stop raining. The roof of one of the wards was loosened the other night the wind was so strong, so the patients had to be all moved out while it was being mended. Our barracks had to be propped up also, all one side was loose and the rain came in sheets. I frequently go to bed with an umbrella.

January 16, 1916

We have had orders to evacuate all the men who are able to travel, so we got rid of a great many — eighteen went on Tuesday, twenty on Friday, and nineteen more are to go next Tuesday.

The roof nearly blew off my ward last night, so my patients had to be moved into the next ward till it is mended. I am going to take advantage of it and have a thorough house cleaning.

Le Roux, the boy who has been here so long and who has been so terribly ill, died on Tuesday. I had great hopes of him up till the last day. Half an hour after he died the general came to decorate him. I hope they will send the medals to his people; it seems hard that they should have been just too late to give them to him. The next day I went to his funeral — the first soldier's funeral I have seen. I was impressed with the dignity and simplicity of it. The plain deal coffin was covered with a black pall, which had a white cross at the head, the French flag covered the foot and a bunch of purple violets, tied with red, white, and blue ribbon, lay between.
It was carried in one of the covered military carts. At three o'clock the little procession started for the cemetery. First came the priest in soldier's uniform, carrying a small wooden cross, on which was written Le Roux's name and the name of his regiment. One of this kind is always put at the head of each grave. Then came three soldiers with guns on their shoulders, then the car bearing the coffin, and on each side three soldiers with arms reversed; directly behind were two
infirmiers
and three soldiers with guns on their shoulders, we two nurses in our uniforms, then two officers and some more soldiers. As we went down the road to the little church in R___[Rousbrugge?] we passed long lines of soldiers going somewhere, and everyone saluted. A few stray people followed us into the church and
afterwards to the graveyard, where we left Le Roux with his comrades who had gone before. I had not been there since All Saints Day and it was sad to see how many more graves had been added to the line. The ward seems very empty without Le Roux, but I am glad that the poor boy is at rest for he has suffered so long. I am beginning to think that death is the only good thing that can come to many of us.