Agnes Warner and the Nursing Sisters of the Great War (15 page)

When I have anyone who is so ill as he was I bless the good people at home who have made it possible for me to give them what they need.

The guns are busy tonight, so I suppose we will be tomorrow.

November 12, 1916

I have not had any home letters for three weeks.

The 26th have a great reputation here and Saint John can be proud of them.

November 19, 1916

We have been shaken almost to pieces with vibrations from the guns these last three days. What must it be close at hand? On Wednesday we had a visit from the Taubes again. I could not sleep for the noise of the machines, so I went out to see what was happening. We could see the bombs dropping all around us, but fortunately none came very near.

November 26, 1916

How we laughed over your stories. Send us some more when you have them, anything to make us laugh. It is strange how one can laugh in spite of everything. I don't think we could live through it if it were not for the funny and foolish things that happen.

I got a letter from our boy today. It is such a relief to see the dirty little envelopes with the address in pencil. There is never much news, but just to know that he is alive is enough.

December 9, 1916

We have all been a little worried about Christmas this year, fearing that we should not be able to give the men a really good dinner. We have all been getting contributions and are turning them into the general fund, and now comes this fat cheque from the Canadian Red Cross at Saint John for my beloved
poilus
. How can I ever thank them enough for their generous gift! All anxiety on the dinner score is now removed. We have about two hundred and fifty, counting
infirmiers
and men that work about the hospital — they are soldiers who have been in the trenches for nearly two years, or been disabled through wounds or sickness, or exchanged prisoners from Germany unfit for military service. They call the hospital
le petit Paradis des blessés
and are so glad to be sent here. A man was brought in here the other day who was wounded for the second time, but he did not mind in the least about his wounds, he was so glad to get back. He is delighted because he will not be well enough to leave before Christmas.

We sent to England for some pop-corn, and today the men have been like a lot of happy children stringing the corn for the tree. They had never seen it before and were much interested. We made quite a successful popper out of a fly screen and a piece of wire netting.

The other night we were talking over the various experiences we have had since the beginning of the war — the terrible things we have seen — the sad stories we have heard, and the strange but very true friendships
we have formed — and we all agree that we could never have carried on our work in such a satisfactory way if it had not been for the gifts which have come from time to time from our home friends. The extra food that we have been able to give to the very sick men has made all the difference in the world to their recovery, and then the warm clothing when they go out, and the bit of money to help them over the hard place. You cannot imagine how much it means to them.

I remember so well one poor little man who had reached the limit of endurance, and when I found the sleepless nights were due to worry and not to pain, the whole pitiful little story came out. His wife was ill, his sister-in-law dead, and there were six children to be looked after — the eldest a boy of eleven — and no money. As long as his wife had been able to run the farm they had been able to get along, but she had given out. The French soldier only gets five cents a day, so he had nothing to send
them. He cried like a baby when I told him I could help him. We sent off a money order for one hundred francs the next day, and I wish you could have seen the change in that man. That little sum of money put things straight six months ago and now everything is going well. But he will never forget, and both he and his wife have a very warm feeling in their hearts for the good people across the sea who came to their rescue in a time of need. When I begin to talk of my beloved French it is hard to stop.

January 1, 1917

The men had a wonderful Christmas day. They were like a happy lot of children. We decorated the wards with flags, holly, mistletoe, and paper flowers that the men made, and a tree in each ward. You cannot imagine how pretty they were. Each patient began the day with a sock that was hung to the foot of their bed by the night nurses. In each was an orange, a small bag of sweets, nuts, and raisins, a handkerchief, pencil, tooth brush, pocket comb and a small toy that pleased them almost more than anything else, and which they at once passed on to their children. They had a fine dinner — jam, stewed rabbit, peas, plum pudding, fruit, nuts, raisins, and sweets. The plum puddings were sent by the sister of one of the nurses.

In the afternoon the trees were lighted and we had the official visit of the medicine chef and all the staff. After the festivities were over we began preparing for the tree for the refugee children. We had thought that we would have enough left over to manage for fifty children, but the list grew to one hundred and twenty-five. The mayor of the village let us have a large room in his house, as the first place we had chosen was too small. We had the tree on Sunday afternoon and three hundred and thirty-one children arrived. Fortunately we had some extra things so there was enough of something to go around. They had a lovely time, each one got a small toy, a biscuit, and most of them a small bag of sweets and an orange. The oranges and sweets gave out, but there were enough biscuits and toys, but there was nothing left.

We are all dead tired, for we worked like nailers for the past two weeks; but it was worthwhile, for we were able to make a great many people
happy, and now we are sending off packages to the trenches — things that came too late for Christmas.

We expect to move this month. It will be an awful business breaking up here, for all the barracks have to be taken to pieces and moved with us. We have begun to take an inventory and to pack up, but I do not know just where we will move to, the papers are not in order yet. It is hard to believe that another year of war has begun.

The dog who saved his master's life.
My Beloved Poilus

The hopelessly paralyzed man who afterwards walked two miles on crutches.
My Beloved Poilus

Three
Chasseurs d'Alpine
. Called by the Germans “Blue Devils.”
My Beloved Poilus

Ambulance Volant, France.
My Beloved Poilus

Thought to be a hopeless case. But everyone must have their chance, three doctors operated at once, amputating leg, an arm and trepanning. Now as happy as the day is long.
My Beloved Poilus

Nurses' quarters for two.
My Beloved Poilus
.