Suffragette Girl (25 page)

‘I’m Nurse Maltby and I’m English,’ Florrie shouted. ‘And Dr Hartmann is Swiss.’

‘Swiss? Don’t give me that. They’re neutral. What would a Swiss doctor be doing out here?’

The sentry still wasn’t convinced. He scrambled down from the wall and stepped closer, but all the time kept his gun pointing straight at them. ‘You’d better see my sergeant.
Come on.’ He waved his gun, ordering them to move on. ‘And put your hands up. I don’t know who you are.’

‘We’ve just told you,’ Florrie began heatedly, but Ernst touched her arm and said gently, ‘Do as he says. He’s only doing his duty.’

They did as he bade them and stepped in front of him. ‘Would that be Sergeant Granger?’ Florrie asked.

Surprised, the young soldier said, ‘Well, yes. ’Ow do you know ’im, then?’

Through the gloom, Florrie grinned at Dr Hartmann, who, still miffed at being thought an enemy, said with stiff sarcasm, ‘He’s been kind enough to help us set up our hospital tents
and provide this young woman with a gun and ammunition for her personal safety. It seems she may well need it. And not only against the enemy!’

After another half a mile they neared the communication trenches, where another soldier repeated the challenge. ‘It’s me, Billy. I’ve got a couple here who reckon they’re
a doctor and a nurse. And they say they know Sergeant Granger. But one of ’em’s a German.’

‘Swiss,’ Ernst muttered.

A soft chuckle came out of the darkness and the private stepped forward. ‘S’all right, Walt. I know them. I’ve just helped put up their tents. Wouldn’t ’alf mind
sharing yours though, miss.’

‘How dare you?’ Ernst Hartmann began indignantly. ‘I’ll report you to your superior.’

Now it was Florrie who put her hand on his arm and said softly, ‘It’s all right, Doctor.’ She raised her voice and said gaily, ‘Well, you’d have a night of it,
soldier. There’s one of the sisters and two other nurses all sharing the same tent.’

‘What? That sister I saw with a face like a horse? Ah, no thanks. Even I’ve got me pride.’

‘Now, now, soldier.’ Florrie stifled her laughter. Sister Blackstock had not exactly been at the front of the queue when the looks were given out, she thought. Nevertheless, she
didn’t deserve to be ridiculed. ‘That’s not nice,’ she said sharply. ‘She’s a lovely woman and a
very
good nurse.’

The soldier called Billy guffawed. ‘Well, I’ll take your word for it, Nurse. Hope I never have need of her – er – services!’

Florrie tried hard to hide her smile. At her side Dr Hartmann gave a grunt of disapproval.

More seriously, Billy now said, ‘Was there something you wanted, Doc? I can fetch the sarge if you like.’

‘That won’t be necessary,’ Ernst Hartmann snapped. ‘We just came to see if there was anywhere we could set up a treatment post as near to the lines as possible.’
With an incredibly swift change of mood that surprised Florrie, he laughed suddenly and added, ‘Trying to help you young rascals and your pals. That’s all.’

‘I’m real sorry, Doctor.’ The soldier behind them now lowered his rifle and moved closer. Through the half-light, Florrie could see that he was no more than a young boy. He
reminded her poignantly of James and her heart turned over. ‘But if I’d let you come past and—’

‘It’s all right,’ Florrie said. ‘We do understand.’

‘You’d best get back, Walt. Don’t want you with your back to the post. I heard tell there’s one in Poperinghe – all ready and waiting.’

‘Oh God, no.’ The young soldier sounded panicky for a moment, turned on his heel and ran back through the gloom.

‘We’d better get back too, young man. Thank you for your help earlier. Perhaps you could tell Sergeant Granger that I will come and see him in the morning. I believe a supply train
is due in tomorrow?’

‘So I understand, sir. Goodnight to you both.’

As they retraced their steps, Florrie asked, ‘What did that soldier – Billy – mean about the other one – Walt, was it – having his back to the post?’

‘I think he was making a joke – a rather sick one – about the lads facing the firing squad. They’re tied with their backs to a post.’

Florrie gasped. ‘But – but why? He hadn’t done anything wrong? Had he?’

‘He was on sentry duty or lookout duty – whatever they call it out here – at that ruined house. He probably shouldn’t have left his position.’

‘And he’d be shot for something as – as trivial as that?’

‘Oh yes.’ Ernst was matter-of-fact, calmly accepting of what sounded to Florrie like a cruel atrocity.

They walked in silence for some way until Ernst said, ‘I ought to report you to Sister Blackstock.’

Florrie stopped and turned to face him. He too paused whilst they stared at each other, but she couldn’t read his expression in the darkness. ‘Report me? Whatever for?’

‘You were far too—’ For once he had to seek the English word. ‘Familiar, yes, that’s it – familiar – with that soldier. And you allowed him to be
discourteous towards Sister Blackstock.’

‘No, I didn’t. I slapped him down for that,’ Florrie replied hotly. ‘And as for being familiar, as you put it, don’t you think that, if they’re brought into
our hospital, horribly wounded and bleeding to death, a friendly face and a cheery word helps?’

‘Undoubtedly, but he’s not wounded. He’s a fit, healthy young male. You were flirting with him, Nurse. And it won’t do. It won’t do at all.’

‘Oh, fiddlesticks! I can look after myself – at least against
that
sort of attack – gun or no gun.’

And as if to prove a point she marched off ahead of him into the darkness.

When she entered the tent she was to share with the three other women, she fully expected a further dressing down from Sister Blackstock for going off alone with the doctor.
But every one of them, tired by the day’s travelling, was fast asleep, and Rosemary was snoring gently. Florrie slipped into her bed quietly, but sleep was a long time in claiming her and
when it did, her rest was disturbed by dreams of a pair of dark-blue eyes that changed with mercurial suddenness from laughter to anger.

The following morning, Sergeant Granger came to their encampment.

‘The train has arrived and your supplies are on it. I’ve arranged for everything to be brought to you here.’

‘Thank you,’ Ernst Hartmann said. ‘Now we can get started, but there’s something else you can do for us, Sergeant.’

‘Anything, Doctor. Just name it.’

‘We – that is, I and one of the nurses – walked towards the trenches last night to see if there is anywhere we could set up a treatment post, I suppose you might call it, even
closer to the front line.’

‘Oh yes, I heard about that. The lad on sentry duty reported it.’ He was thoughtful for a moment before saying, ‘Well, maybe I can help you. Have you time to come back with me
now?’

‘Yes, yes, certainly.’ He turned to Florrie, who was hovering nearby and had overheard the conversation. ‘Come along, Nurse Maltby. Since you’ve volunteered to be
involved, then you should see what you’re getting yourself into.’

‘I’ll just ask Sister Blackstock,’ Florrie said, suddenly uncharacteristically circumspect. But the doctor waved his hand, ‘No need, no need. I’m giving you an
order. She has no authority to countermand it.’

Florrie followed the two men as they went towards the mud-spattered, dilapidated vehicle the sergeant was driving. They bounced over the rough ground. As he drove, he shouted above the noise of
the engine. ‘That shell-damaged house you saw last night – where the soldier was on duty. It’s uninhabited now, but it’s a big place. The kitchen and a couple of the
ground-floor rooms are still pretty much intact, and it’s got cellars – a real warren of ’em. Is that the sort of place you’re looking for?’

Excitement shone in Ernst Hartmann’s eyes. ‘Exactly.’

They drove back the way Florrie and Ernst had walked the previous evening.

‘It’s not far from our supply lines and rear-line billets, Doctor, but still well behind our artillery. Can’t say you won’t get a stray shell from the other side now and
again, but the cellars are pretty solid. I think it’s as near as you can get and yet still be comparatively safe.’

Florrie cast a sideways glance at Ernst. He made no comment and she was sure he was thinking: It’s still not near enough.

Now, in the light of day, they could see the encampment behind the lines where soldiers took a respite from the Front, where the supplies of food and equipment and ammunition were delivered to
be transported through the support trenches to those in the front line. They could see the tents and the hastily erected buildings that housed the reserve soldiers – men who would themselves
soon have to go to the Front and give their fellow soldiers a welcome rest. Those who had not already been carried out wounded or dead, Florrie thought grimly.

She leaned forward from her seat in the back of the vehicle. ‘How long do they stay in the very front line?’

‘Usually two days. Then two days in the support trenches, another two in the reserve trenches and finally six days in the rear-line billets before they have to go up to the front line
again. ’Course they can’t sit on their backsides – ’scuse me, miss. When they’re not at the front they have to repair trenches, bury the dead or carry supplies up to
the Front. And all the time,’ his voice wavered a bit, ‘there’s the bloody shelling.’ This time he did not apologize.

‘D’you get any proper leave? I mean, away from here altogether?’

‘Oh yes, now and again we get a few days and go into the countryside.’ He jerked his thumb over his shoulder towards the border with France. ‘But none of us have been back to
England yet. We’re all hoping we’ll get relieved soon and we can get right away for a while. Perhaps Paris, or maybe even right home this time.’ There was longing in the young
man’s tone.

‘I hope you do,’ Florrie said.

‘Thanks, miss.’ He slowed the vehicle and drew to a halt. ‘Here we are.’

They all looked up at the house. They could see now that it had once been a magnificent building and even though now it was battered and crumbling, it was still standing with proud defiance.

‘It’s not quite what the French would call a chateau, but it does remind me of the Manor House back home in our village,’ Sergeant Granger said wistfully, reminding Florrie
suddenly of Gervase and Isobel and of the beautiful Bixley Manor. Then the sergeant became practical once more as he added, ‘There’s still furniture in some of the rooms. You might be
able to use it.’

‘What about the owners?’ Florrie asked. ‘Where are they?’

The sergeant shrugged. ‘No idea. But I’m sure they wouldn’t mind us using it, if it’s to help the men fighting to rid their country of the enemy.’

‘Precisely,’ Ernst Hartmann murmured. ‘Let’s take a look.’

They walked into the shell-scarred house, stepping over the rubble in the worst of the rooms.

‘I don’t think it’d be safe to use the upstairs and even one or two of the downstairs rooms – well, the ceilings look a little precarious to me,’ Sergeant Granger
said. He moved through to the rear of the house where the kitchen was situated. He opened several doors, most of which were cupboards or led outside to the back yard. But then he found the one he
was looking for: steps leading down to cellars.

‘Here it is,’ he cried triumphantly. ‘It’s very dark. Do be careful if you’re coming down.’

‘We need a lamp or candles and matches.’ Florrie looked about her. She glanced along the dusty shelves, but there was no lamp. Then she opened kitchen drawers. ‘There’s
still cutlery here and table cloths and napkins,’ she murmured. ‘So much we could use. Ah . . . here we are!’ Florrie lifted three candles from the drawer.

‘And how do you propose to light them?’ Ernst asked.

‘I’ve got matches,’ the sergeant offered and, after more searching, they managed to find candle-holders and lit the three candles. Taking one each, they went carefully down the
stone steps.

The cellar was divided into several rooms, some still housing dusty bottles of wine in racks.

‘This is perfect. It’s dry and—’

‘Doctor,’ Sergeant Granger said worriedly, ‘I must impress upon you that the shelling can reach as far as this. You’re very close to the trenches, you know.’

But Ernst Hartmann was nodding and smiling, pleased with what they’d found. He waved aside the sergeant’s fears. ‘This is exactly where I want to be – where I
need
to be.’ He turned excitedly to Florrie. ‘Nurse Maltby, I’m putting you in charge of getting these cellars ready to receive patients. They need cleaning from top to
bottom, beds and linen moved in. An operating table in one of the smaller rooms and all the equipment and medical supplies we shall need.’

Florrie gasped. It was a mammoth task. She glanced helplessly at the sergeant. But he smiled and nodded. ‘I’ll detail some of our lads to come and help you, miss. We’ll have it
shipshape in no time.’

‘Good, good,’ Ernst Hartmann rubbed his hands gleefully. ‘Now, we’re really getting somewhere. If you’d be kind enough to drive us back, Sergeant? The sooner we can
get things moving, the better.’

The next two days were a blur to Florrie. Dust filled her nostrils, clung to her hair and dirtied her uniform, but with the help of Billy and Walter and a couple of their pals, the cellars were
cleaned thoroughly. Camp beds with pillows and blankets were moved in. Suddenly, the place started to look like a proper field hospital, and a comparatively safe one at that.

‘Would you like the kitchen cleaned out too, miss?’ Billy asked her. ‘You could store a lot of dressings and bandages and stuff in them cupboards.’

‘An’ if we clean the range for you,’ Walter put in, ‘mebbe you could use it for cooking. I reckon we could get it working for you. It’s an English one, would you
believe, just like me ma’s got at home.’

‘And some of the lads will come and act as stretcher-bearers an’ orderlies for you, if you want. Sergeant’s cleared it with the major, so you’ve only got to ask.
We’ll organize it, miss, but we’ve been ordered to the Front tomorrow, so we’ll have to get some of the lads that are coming back down the line to help you.’