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    A War Nurse’s Diary; Sketches From A Belgian Field Hospital [Illustrated Edition]
    A War Nurse’s Diary; Sketches From A Belgian Field Hospital [Illustrated Edition]
    A War Nurse’s Diary; Sketches From A Belgian Field Hospital [Illustrated Edition]
    Ebook133 pages1 hour

    A War Nurse’s Diary; Sketches From A Belgian Field Hospital [Illustrated Edition]

    By Anon Anon

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    About this ebook

    Illustrated with 33 photos of the author’s comrades, adventures and hospitals.
    When war broke out in 1914, it was imagined in Britain that the war with Germany would be short and the need for nursing staff over in France would be low as there should be very few casualties. The author, a trained nurse from the Northern Midlands in England, decided that she would volunteer her services immediately, but was rebuffed by the Red Cross and St John’s Ambulance on the basis that they had almost one nurse for every soldier in the field. Not to be deterred, she responded to an advert which read: “Ten nurses wanted at once for Antwerp; must be voluntary.” And off to Belgium she went in August 1914.
    It was to be in Belgium that so many of these rosy presumptions that were held by many were shattered early in the autumn of 1914, as the German steamroller thumped into the Allied forces. In its wake the huge numbers of wounded flooded into the hospitals in Belgium where our author was inundated with work. As the Germans moved forward, she and her fellow hospital staff were moved backward from Antwerp, where she was briefly caught up in the siege, escaping to Ghent, Bruges, Ostend and thence to France. She tended to the wounded amidst the carnage of war almost unceasingly until a year later when she left France for England in October 1915.
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherLucknow Books
    Release dateJun 13, 2014
    ISBN9781782891635
    A War Nurse’s Diary; Sketches From A Belgian Field Hospital [Illustrated Edition]

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      Book preview

      A War Nurse’s Diary; Sketches From A Belgian Field Hospital [Illustrated Edition] - Anon Anon

       This edition is published by PICKLE PARTNERS PUBLISHING—www.picklepartnerspublishing.com

      To join our mailing list for new titles or for issues with our books – contact@picklepartnerspublishing.com

      Or on Facebook

      Text originally published in 1918 under the same title.

      © Pickle Partners Publishing 2013, all rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted by any means, electrical, mechanical or otherwise without the written permission of the copyright holder.

      Publisher’s Note

      Although in most cases we have retained the Author’s original spelling and grammar to authentically reproduce the work of the Author and the original intent of such material, some additional notes and clarifications have been added for the modern reader’s benefit.

      We have also made every effort to include all maps and illustrations of the original edition the limitations of formatting do not allow of including larger maps, we will upload as many of these maps as possible.

      A WAR NURSE'S DIARY

      SKETCHES FROM A BELGIAN FIELD HOSPITAL

      TABLE OF CONTENTS

      Contents

      TABLE OF CONTENTS 2

      PART I 3

      CHAPTER I — THE START 3

      CHAPTER II — ANTWERP 5

      CHAPTER III — THE SIEGE 10

      CHAPTER IV — THE RETREAT 13

      CHAPTER V — GHENT 16

      CHAPTER VI — BRUGES 17

      CHAPTER VII — OSTEND 18

      CHAPTER VIII — THE EVACUATION 19

      PART II 21

      CHAPTER IX — FURNES 21

      CHAPTER X —FIRING THE SOIXANTE-QUINZE 34

      CHAPTER XI — CHRISTMAS 40

      CHAPTER XII — THE BOMBARDMENT 44

      PART III 46

      CHAPTER XIII — HOOGESTADT 46

      CHAPTER XIV — THE SECOND BATTLE OF YPRES 52

      CHAPTER XV — A MILITARY HOSPITAL 56

      PART I

      CHAPTER I — THE START

      WHEN war was declared August 1st, 1914, the great upheaval sent its waves of excitement beating against every shore till it touched the whole world.

      Away in the Northern-Midlands of England there is a county-hospital. Enrolled among its nurses were several who belonged to the Territorials. Scarcely had war been declared when their marching orders came. Proudly they went away, clad in military uniform, whilst those left behind envied them with an almost bitter envy.

      Speaking for myself, to want a thing badly means to get it—if possible. When the Servians started I went to the Matron and asked permission to be released to offer my services. Her answer was, Wait a little. Your own Country may need you. meanwhile she got permission for me to go. But permission to go and a zeal to serve one's country are but the preliminaries to active service at the front. Not only women but men constantly meet with bitter disappointment and many obstacles put by a wise government as tests to temper, discipline, or some inscrutable reason which like another great Power moves in a mysterious way its wonders to perform. To make a long story short, after having filled up many forms, stating whether there was any insanity in or near the family, and what the victim's great grandmother died of, and how many foreign languages she could speak, &c., &c., &c., 1 was told by the Red Cross, St. John's Ambulance, the Military Nursing Reserve, and Auxiliary Bodies of many varieties, that my services were not required, as they had about thirty thousand nurses on their lists, in fact about one nurse to each soldier!

      Two weeks dragged by when the post brought a correspondence card from one of our doctors with this simple legend pasted thereon;—Ten nurses wanted at once for Antwerp; must be voluntary. Quickly I sent a wire offering my services, then waited two more interminable weeks. Having given up hope, one evening a wire was handed me, Be ready to start to-morrow.

      A lawyer came that night and helped me make a will—in case of accidents! Meanwhile my friend got two days' leave to come up with me, and next morning we were off to London.

      The lady who was the organizer of our hospital had not, I should judge, any previous experience of hospitals or their management. We all felt this, and therefore were quite prepared, at an early date, to fall into the hands of the Germans, so, as a precaution, we nurses each provided ourselves with a tube of morphia tablets to take in any emergency. (They came in useful after for others, as you will see, given in smaller doses than we contemplated taking!) We were to live in tents and nurse the wounded therein. But, whatever may have been lacking in the medical arrangements, our Directress had certainly secured the names of some of the most prominent and influential people in Europe.

      Our Patroness was no less a personage than Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth of the Belgians, and the Duchess de Vendôme was associated with her. Our chairman for some time was Lord Northcliffe. and afterwards Lord Sydenham, whilst many great names figured on the Committee. Our head-surgeon for some months was Mr. Souttar, F. R. C. S., one of the surgeons of the London Hospital, whilst after he returned to his work other men from the same hospital of equal repute and skill took his place.

      Arriving in London we found our Directress much distressed because some of the nurses had backed out—they felt it too dangerous, I expect. Quickly I urged my friend to accept a vacancy and accompany me. She saw the Committee, was approved, and we sent the following seductive wire to her parents, Lord—- and the Committee have accepted G—- as nurse. Please wire consent. Later on came the answer Cannot refuse. God bless you.

      We all met on Victoria Station, a motley crowd. Nine nurses in flowing violet cloaks and sky blue dresses, four or five men-doctors in khaki, three students from the London Hospital, also in khaki, four lady-doctors, three or four lay-helpers—ladies well known in society, three or four gentlemen-chauffeurs, and last, but not least, four lady farmers. These latter were dressed in officer's uniform-khaki tunic and breeches, with sun helmets. They were highly connected and highly interesting personalities. They brought with them a farm-wagon and a dray-horse, presumably because we were called a Field Ambulance! Later on we abandoned the wagon and horse, with other impedimenta.

      We seemed to create a sensation at Folkestone, where we spent two nights. A film-camera operator honoured us with his attention as we marched on to the quay. Incidentally my friend sent a wire to our Matron, saying she would not be back that night, and please accept her resignation. We were casual in those days. Life seemed cheap. Matrons, whom we had hitherto looked upon as the rulers of our destinies, seemed far away in a forgotten world.

      We crossed to Ostend at night. A little destroyer accompanied us, running on in front, and sometimes round and round us like a little dog out for a ran with his master. Occasionally I wondered if it was a German submarine.

      Our reception at Ostend was not inspiring. We were turned out before dawn in the wet on to a large glass-covered station; the place was quite deserted and

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