Finding Themselves: The Letters of an American Amy Chief Nurse in the British Hospital in FranceStimson, Julia C. (Julia Catherine)
History
Finding Themselves: The Letters of an American Amy Chief Nurse in the British Hospital in France
Stimson, Julia C. (Julia Catherine)
World War, 1914-1918 -- Hospitals; World War, 1914-1918 -- Personal narratives
We all physically were so hard pushed Major Murphy wired for help, and
just a day before this lull we received a mobile Unit from the A. E. F.,
fifteen nurses and thirty-odd enlisted men. You may be sure we were glad
to get them, though fifteen nurses were just lost in the shuffle and did
not seem to make the slightest difference. They all were very young,
inexperienced, little things from Kentucky, who had only recently
landed and had not seen a patient since they had been over. Some of them
are only twenty-one (the age limit has been lowered; it was twenty-five
when we left) and have only been out of a training-school a very short
time, and had only been in very small Kentucky hospitals. So it seemed a
heart-breaking thing to thrust them into this unbelievable hell of a
hospital.
Such a baptism of fire as they got that first afternoon! I tried to
prepare them all I could, but no words could convey anything like the
reality to their inexperienced minds. It was pouring when they came at
12:30 A.M. (and me to meet them here, and feed them, and find them a
place to sleep with a half-hour’s notice of their coming!) and it was
pouring rain the next afternoon when the Supervisor started off with the
little rubber-coated-and-hatted group to drop one here and another there
according to assignments we had made here in the office. A little later
I had occasion to go down in the lines, and I looked in one of the huts
just to see what the little new thing looked like. Just before I got to
the hut a little procession had come out of the door. First two of our
men carrying a stretcher covered with a Union Jack, then a second
stretcher also covered by a flag, then our Supervisor walking behind
accompanying them to the mortuary. People along the line stood rigidly
at attention as they passed, and saluted. Then I went into the hut. The
odor that hit me as I entered was terrific, for most of the cases in
this hut have penetrating chest wounds which drain. The little nurse was
standing by the stove stirring something in a cup on it with a spoon.
She was green-white and looked utterly nauseated. I did not dare speak
to her, for fear she would lose any control she had left, so I told the
weary head nurse to be as gentle with the little thing as she could and
try to realize what she was going through.
That evening I spoke to their group for about ten minutes and told them
that it was not going to be like this always, and about the mitigations
and the happy part of it all. Then I asked them if, after all, this was
not what they had come for, and weren’t they glad they were here. A most
sincere response made me feel that they would be all right soon. Like
all young things, they are adjusting wonderfully and are already making
themselves felt, and are going about as chipper and happy as monkeys.
But oh, the poor little dears, they will never forget that first day.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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