"VOLUNTARY AIDS."

Sun (Christchurch), Volume III, Issue 763, 21 July 1916, Page 4

"VOLUNTARY AIDS."

The "voluntary aids" —untrained; I girls who give their services in war hos-} pitals in England —must find their new j I experiences rather bewildering at times. I A writer in an English, paper, who is! j a V.A., recounts some of her adventures, i j which might be termed the lighter side I 'of hospital life. For instance: — One imagines a hospital full of "rows j | of white beds, with a suffering face on j ! every pillow"; but Ward 2, as seen! ! by us at dawn, had a very different ! aspect. ! A wild hurly-burly was going on. Patients were making beds—dragging. I each other out —upsetting mattresses ! and even bedsteads on to the floor and j running about in different stages of at-! tire. (There are only two stages here: ! either you are simply in your night- ' shirt, which is deshabille, or yoti have ' pulled your trousers on, too, which is | practically full dress). | Nurse Wauchope seemed to take the ! din as a matter of course. ! After giving some directions to an j orderly, who was sweeping piles of dust ! along the floor, she turned to me. | "You might put a match to Sister ! Eliza,'' she said. I "But—" I began, in bewilderment. "And be quick about it," she added, ! bustling out of the ward. What could she mean by this blood- ! thirsty order? For one thing the Sisters j did not come on duty till 8,30. I tuckI ed up my sleeves, and went for the inati ches. Besides, where should I set her j alight;, and why?—and she would proI bably object—. Surely "Sister Eliza" I must be hospital slang for something | not human. To lie sure, Tommy Cookers and Black Marias and Jack Johnstones were inanimate. Miss Ball went flying past with a duster. I dashed after, and appealed to her j for an explanation. At first she looked blank. "What do you mean?" she said, "to! put a, match to—' Oh, now I have it i ' ■ —she must have said 'the steriliser,': ! not 'Sister Eliza.' You must get used; '; to interpreting hasty orders." . j I wasted half-an-hour one morning! j searching the floor for "dusty leaves,": j because Nurse Wauchope told me to! 'j follow the orderly, and sweep up the! i ! "dust he leaves." Miss Ball lit the j j steriliser. "Come and help with the! ! breakfast! " she said. A whirl of skirts, i and she was gone. I followed her into the kitchen, where! Nurse Wauchope, rather hot and (luster- i cd, was doling out portions of bacon 1 Jon to dozens of hot tin [dates. ,1 "You take five, Miss Ball," she murI mured, with knitted brows: "that' • i makes eighteen. How many have you I got, Towusend? Take those to the bed i patients, and these to the Day Room. ! , | Has the Milk Diet had his breakfast I yet?" Townsend and Salter, two of our 'I most able bodied, patients, bustled about .'zealously, tumbling over Miss Ball and i me at every turn. Their hungry mates 'in the Day Room were already playing : a thunderous tattoo on the table with "! their knife handles. "I "They've all got their bacon—all ex- | eept two in bed," says Townsend trium'ipbautly, "but I want the mustard for i my mate, and a fork for wee Jock." "I "Only two more," exclaimed Nurse Wauchope. with relief, "then there is I ! plenty to go round this morning." i ; Only when everyone else was served Ijdid it occur to Townsend and Salter to f ask for theirs. "There! Yon have forgotten yourI" selves again, and you are really too :i : stupid," said Nurse Wauchope, crossly.

"Will you never remember to count; yourselves in?" "Well, it doesn't- matter," said Salt-, er; but they both looked rather crestfallen. This was the third morning they i had missed their bacon. Miss Ball went to the oven, and took out two plates. I "I saved some for you, you sillies,": she said. "You have no more sense; than babies." Very occasionally the kind minstrations of visitors were not appreciated, j such as the time when Sills, in a bad temper, put his head under the clothes, I and refused to emerge as long as his j discomfitted visitor remained. There! was also the time when one of our : "Jocks" who was in a good deal of. pain, turned in exasperation from the ! blandishments of two well-meaning damsels, saying:— "It's na use —A'in marrit." Another gushing lady was effectually,; but innocently, snubbed by O'Reilly, j "She asked me if T would go and stay with her for some of my leave — I ir.e bein' so far from home." "How kind. And what did you say? - ' I asked. "I tould her T would think it over.", he said; "sure, I wouldn't be acceptin' the first invitation 1 get."