Experiences in France

Kai Tiaki : the journal of the nurses of New Zealand, Volume XII, Issue 4, 1 October 1919, Page 181

Experiences in France

Read at Triennial Meeting By one of the N.Z.A.N.S.

Eaily m May of 1917 I left England for France, and joined the staff of the New Zealand Stationary Hospital at Amiens. On arrival there, I found that the hospital was to be moved to Hazebrouck, further north ; most of the medical officers and orderlies had already gone, and a British unit was taking over the hospital at Amiens from us. After a few days there I left with the matron and about half of the sisters for Hazebrouck, the others followed us about a week ater. We arrived at Hazebrouck m time to ''take our bearings " and get settled m our new hospital, ready for the Messines ' push " which started early m June. The hospital was quite a spacious brick building, a monastery or something of that kind ; the monks still used a part of it as a boarding school for boys. The sisters' home was about half* a mile away. We used to quite enjoy the walk backwards and forwards through the oldfashioned town, with its queer old cobbled streets. We met lots of New Zealanders every day, for at tha* time our men were up north, and crowds of them were out resting at a little place about one and a half miles from Hazebrouck. During the Messines fighting we had a very strenuous time, the hospital acted as a casualty clearing station. We received the wounded, operated, and all those who could possibly be moved were sent on almost immediately to the base hospitals, cr straight to " Blighty" the latter, of course was the longed for goal. I was put on theatre duty, and got " broken m " for the real CCS. (casualty clearing station) work, which came later. About the middle of July I was fortunate enough to be sent to join a team at a CCS. m Belgium. A team consisted of a surgeon, an anaesthetist, a sister, and one or two orderlies. When a 'push" was expected, several teams were sent to supplement the permanent staff of a CCS. ; they were sent from base and stationary hospitals, or from other CCS.'s. I went

with a New Zealand anaesthetist, and we joined an English surgeon and orderly. We arrived at our destination after a few hours drive m an ambulance, the usual mode of transport for the medical corps m France. I was feeling very pleased at the thought of joining a British unit, I had wanted that ever since I joined the army, but certainly never expected to get it. We received quite a warm welcome on arrival at No. 10 CCS., and were told that we were the first New Zealanders to be attached there. I was introduced to the matron- — a regular- — and she took me to my new quarters, a queer lil tie hut built of canvas, with sheets of some material like gelatine for windows ; this was one of the Armstrong huts which were used so much m France, they could be put up and taken down m a few minutes and were so portable because of theij lightness. After lunch I started to unpack my kit — we carried all our (< furniture " with vs — and was struggling to get my canvas bed, bath, chair, etc., unfolded and so arianged as to have a few feet of room to move, when an orderly came to say that the New Zealand sister was wanted m the theatre, the wounded were pouring m and the surgeons had already started work. It was an awful shock. I did not expect to walk into a strange theatre and start work. I thought that I should have time to look around and find out where things were kept, and also to see what manner of surgeon I was to work for, so I set off with rather a chilly feeling at my heart . I seemed to walk over miles of duckboards before I found that theatre, and when I opened the door I found our orderly waiting with a mackintosh gown zeady for me, he was holding it up and I just walked into it, scrubbed up, put on gloves, and went over to the operating table. The surgeon had just started an amputation, he greeted me with, "The saw, please, sister, and that is how I started work at a CCS." As soon as that operation was over, the sister-in-charge of the theatre came and

showed me where things were kept, which "half 51 of the little steriliser was ours- — primus lamps were used for boiling water— and begged me, almost with tears, to be careful with the towels and swabs and not to change gloves for every operation ; but I had been well "broken m" to all this at our own hospital, and had learned the necessary art. of economy.

When I had time to look around a little, I found that there were four teams working m that theatre. At the table next to ours they were all Canadians, at the next Americans, and the fourth was " all Brtish." As I have said our own was rather mixed, an English surgeon and orderly, a New Zealand anaesthetist and sister. I was veiy interested m the American team, because they had a sister as anaesthetist. I used to slip along when I had a minute to spare and watch her give gas and oxygen. She gave it to all patients who were at all collapsed, and to all chest cases. 1 was just beginning to feel quite settled at No 10, when an order came through at tweve o'clock one night, for our team to proceed at once to 41 CCS. ; they were very busy there and could not cope with the work. I got up and started to pack, feeling horribly sleepy and tired, for I had only been m bed about half an hour. I was so sleepy that I quite forgot to pack my camp bed, and just as I was leaving the hufc the orderly who had come to carry my kit asked if the bed belonged to the C.C.S. That started the trouble that I had with that camp stretcher for ever afterwards. It would not fold up and fil into my kit bag, and we dare not have a light to investigate the trouble, because of two German planes which were hovering overhead with their bombs, so we just had to take it as it was. When we got to the ambulance the colonel spent another five minutes coaxing it to collapse, but it would not respond, and had to be pushed into the ambulance as it was. It never seemed to recovei from fchis ''weakness" either; would not collapse when I wanted it to, but always ready to do so as soon as I sat on it or went to bed.

No. 41 CCS. was ovei the Belgian frontier not more than a few hours drive really, but we took hours and hours to geb there. The driver did not know the road, and was to follow the ambulance m front of us

but soon after sfcarbing our light failed and we had to stop, and the driver of the other ambulance, blissfully unconscious, went on without us. I shall never forget that drive. We kept crossing and xecrossing the frontier, and the Belgian sentry who kept coming to see who we were, did not try to hide his disgust when he recognised us again and again. He knew thab we were lost, but' he did not know our language and we did not know his, so he could not help us. Eventually we saw a motor lorry at the side of the road, and knowing that the drivers always slept m their lorries, the colonel succeeded, after much shaking and shouting, to waken this one and he was able to direct us to the village where the CCS. was. We we^e very lhankful on arriving there to find that we were not to start work at once. I had some tea, rolled myself m my rug, and slepfc soundly on the gi'assy floor of a tent until I was called for breakfast.

We stayed at No. 41 for nearly four months, working hard most of the time. Our team was one of four on day duty, the same number did night duty. There were bwo operating tables for each team ; thab saved a tremendous lob of time, as the anaesthetist was able to have the next man ready for the surgeon as soon as he, i/he surgeon, was ready to start. I worked m a good number of theatres m France, bub that at 41 was the most spacious 1 — it was just a wooden hut— and the best equipped. As well as electric light, they had acetylene gas installer], so were quite independent when bhe former failed, as it so often did m these places. I have seen surgeons working b}~ the light of a torch only. There was a lot of heavy fighting m Flanders during the months we spent at 41. The time that is most vivid m my memory is that of the Passchendaele :t stunt." The weather was vile, the wounded were brought m m a dreadful condition. Solid masses of mud, it was so hard trying to get them out of their khaki, especially when the mud had had long enough bo harden. We were nob a very great distance from the line, far enough to be safe from shells, of course, but near enough to have some of the men down, operated on, and ready for the ambulance train within four or five hours of being wounded.

Two or three C.CS.'s were usually grouped together. One would take m a certain number of patients, or else for a certain length of time — usually twentyfour hours— and then the next one would start. This method usually gave each one time to get through the operations and cleared up ready for the next "take m." The wounded were first taken into what was known as the " receiving tent J; There their field dressing was removed, wounds examined and classified ; some sent away to the X-ray room, and those who were fit for operation were taken to the preparation tent, where theii khaki was lemoved, pyjamas put on, a hyper derfnic given, and they waited there for their turn m the theatre.

There was always' a list of names at a CCS. of men- — usually stietcher-bearerS' — who were willing to give blood for transfusion, and it was quite a common sight to see a great strong man on one table, with his arm bared, ready to give the blood that would probably save the life of an almost dead man beside him. The ' Donors ' as they were called, used to get leave to Blighty after this operation. When there was a " push " on, the day team used to work from 8 a.m. until \z p.m,

or later, the night teams coming on at--8 p.m., and so for four or five hours all the teams were working together. By doing this it was usually possible to cop y e with the work, and the wounded were not kept waiting too long for their operations. The nights were usually something to be dreaded, because of the air-raids. The

railway station was close beside the CCS. and troops were always embarking and dis-embar kin g . Th c Germans were evidertly well aware of this, for every fine night they were over, and twice whilst I was at 41 we got their bombs right m amongst our tents. The first time there were no casualties, they dropped on to some empty tents (foi? an instant, though, we all thought that we were killed or wounded), but the second time a sister, an orderly, and several patients were killed, and the matron and several of th*? staff and patients wounded. One bomb fell a few yards from the theatre where I happened to be at the time, but I think we who were there escaped injury through lying flat as soon as we heard the first one

fall . for several -of the staff who were m a tent some distance away and did nob lie down were wounded by the same bomb. We had a dug-out which we were supposed to go into as soon as the music of the antiaircraft started, but if we were too far away or could not leave our work Ihe alternative was just to lie flat on the ground, foi when a bomb bursts the fragments fly upwards, and theie is a chance of missing them if one is lying flat.

In November, when the worst of the fighting was over for that year, the teams returned to their respective hospitals. There were some very sad partings, for many good friendships had been made, and it was hard to say good-bye knowing that we should probably never meet again.

Whilst I was at 41 our own hospital had had to leave Hazebrouck very hurriedly, as the Germans started to shell the town. They moved to a .place called Wisques, about twelve miles further back. I went down there once from 41, when the place was m the course of construction I—just1 — just a few tents up m a clearing m. the woods — but when I went back to stay, I was amazed to sec what a huge place it had grown into. Most of the tents were replaced by large wooden huts, each with about fifty beds, everything was m working order, and there was a huge crowd of patients m. The whole staff must have worked wonderfully to attain the result they had. It was a beautiful situation for a hospital, on the top of a hill, surrounded by the most glorious woods. I am sure that for the rest of their lives most of the New Zealanders who spent the following spring at Wisques will have an aching longing to see the glories of those woods again. They wore carpeted with bluebells, primroses, and violets, there were wild cheriy trees, with a marvellous wealth of blossom, great clumps of lily -of -the- valley, and a hundred and one things that do not grow wild m our own country. We were too far from the railway station to receive many wounded ; most of our patients were medical, but all the same we had a lot of work there. At one timo it was the isolation hosptial for that area. We always had a lot of cases of trench fever, trench feet, pneumonia, and influenza. As soon as I got back from 41 I put m for my leave' — we were supposed to get a

fortnight every six months m France — it came through m about ten days, and I set off for the sunny south. It was such a joy to leave the bitter north at that time of the yea*, and aftei two days' travelling to find oneself beside the blue Mediterranian. The Esterel at Cannes was taken for six months of the year for sisters who had been ill, or for any who desired to spend their ordinary leave there. The majority who went on leave were from overseas, Americans, Canadians, South Afr icans, Australians, and New Zealanders ; most of the Imperial sisters, of cousse, went to their homes across the Channel.

The Esterei was m charge of a Red Cross worker- — Lady Gifford — and a capable staff of V.A.D.'s. It was a luxurious place — to go there from the discomforts of active service was a never-to-be-forgotten joy. We used to arrange motor parties, and visited Nice, Monte Carlo, Mentone, and all those delightful places, and once we crossed t*he frontier and went into Italy. Not having the necessary passports, we were not allowed to go very far though. Sometimes we used to go away up into the mountains — the Maritime Alps— and see the most wonderful old rock villages, and the ruins of some. We would climb up into old church towers and obtain the most extensive view of France and Italy, too beautiful for my pen to describe. The hills there were wonderfully cultivated. Terrace upon terrace of grape vines — a riot of colour at that time of the year- — orange and fig trees with ripening fruit, glades of olive trees, and the mimosa. . There were acres and acres of rose trees and jessamine, and other flowers grown for the making of perfumes. At a place called Gi'arse we were taken through a perfume factory, and shown the whole process from beginning feo end. I spent Christmas at Cannes, and two days later left for the north again. On the way down I had stayed a day and a night m Paris, but going back an awful snowstorm was raging, so I went straight through.

When I got back to Wisques, I went on night duty for three months. My twelve months m .France were nearly completed and I was beginning to dread having to return to England, when word came through that I was to go to a British base hospital

to learn the administration of anaesthetics. The British took the cue from the Americans, arid m 1918 trained several sisters for this work and liberated quite a number of medical officers for other work.

No. 2 Stationaiy Hospital, whele I was sent, was at Abbroilk, on the Somme. 1 was there when the tide turned m our favour, after the March retreat, and we took thousands of German prisoners. At No . 2 Stationary we took the German wounded, so I was able to 'practice' anaesthetics on them.

For the first two months that I was there every fine night was to be dreaded, the airraids were frightful, the town was badly bombed. All the townspeople used to go into the country to sleep. Ii was pathetic to see them trudging along the roads with their bedding ; fortunately, it was summer time and sleeping out m the open was possible.

Splendid dug-outs, many feet underground were built at the hospital by Germap prisoners and the Chinese labour gang. As soon as the air-raid warning was given, we had to leave our beds, willy nilly, and take shelter. All the patients who could walk had to go, and those who could not -had their folding stretchers put flat on the floor. Theie were parapets of sandbags all through the waids ; these would have limited the casualties considerably if any bombs had fallen there. Only once whilst I was there did this happen, although they fell thick and fast around us, and we would have the wounded to operate on as soon as the raid was over.

When I had completed my three months there, the order came through for me to leave for No. 10 C.C.S., and spend the last month of the training m learning to give gas and oxygen. My railway pass was made out for Calais, I had to report there, and get another one for my destination, which turned out to be a place called Berguis (pronounced Beig), about eight miles south of Dunkirk. All the C.C.S.'s had had to move back considerably during the German advance m March, so No. 10 was now m France, it was m Belgium when I joined it m 1917. I was quite disappointed on arrival there to find that the staff had completely changed, with the exception of one or two of the surgeons. Six months was as long as any of the siste;s were kept at a CCS.

After a month there, my reports being satisfactory, I was attached as anaesthetist to a surgical team. By this time the Germans were retreating rapidly, and the C.C.S.'s were moving forward. No. 10 went to its old site m Belgium again, and whilst they were moving and getting things m order there my team went still further north and joined No. 44 CCS. We had a strenuous ten days there, and then left for No. 10 again. We found them all very busy there, getting the tents and huts ready for patients again. A great number had been more or less destroyed by shells, the place had also been used by the troops, British and French. We were wi'hin range of the enemy guns — the Germans were occupying Kemmel then- — and a laige town, about a mile and a half away, was frequently shelled. There were no people there, they had all left it months before. Two other C.CS's had moved up also, a Canadian and a British. After a few weeks iC push " and there was great bustle and excitement with all the teams arriving. I met many of the same people that I had met the previous year at 10 and 41. Some of them had great tales to tell of our re~ treat m March. No. 37 CCS., which was adjoining No. 41 when I was there, had been taken by the Germans and the colonel and most of the staff were still prisoners ; the sisiers were sent away m time. Our team was put on night duty for the " push/ Looking back on it all now, it is rather a conjured memory. The casualties were awful. The Germans were driven out from Kemmel, and I do not think that they could have stopped retreating until they reached the Fatherland, but what a price we had to pay! The wounded came m m a continuous stream, each CCS. would fill up m a faw hours, the ambulance trains were always at the siding, the men were brought down from the line by motor ambulance, but were taken on to the base hospitals by train. Our day teams used to start work at 9 a.m. and go on until one and 2 a.m., and the night teams would start at 5 p.m. and go on until 9 a.m. The wsather was bad, and the place became a sea of mud. At night nob a glimmer of light could be shown as the German planes were over wherever it -was at all clear. The stretcher-bearers had to carry their burdens along the muddy, slippery duck-

boards as best they could m the dark. I do not know how long the severe fighting lasted at this time, I cannot remember ; probably a week or ten days, perhaps longer. But after a time a wonderful quietness reigned. We could no longer hear the guns, no more shells came over, and the air-raids closed. The wounded si ill came m but from a great distance, and some of the C.C.S.'s started to follow the advancing army. At the beginning of the push our group was the nearest to the line.

Our team was still on night duty, and instead of going off to bed m the morning, we used (io go and see the battlefields, all that devasted country horn Ypres down to Lille, taking m Kemmel, Messines, Passchendaele, Bay enne, and all those places so well known to the New Zealanders m 1917 and the beginning of 1918. The Tommies and the Frenchmen used to stare at the sisters m amazement, we were the first women that they had seen up there since the retreat m March. When we visited Kemmel the Germans weva still lying unburied. I shall never forget the cemetery there, every tombstone was shatteied to pieces, and not only were the recently killed Germans lying about, but the bones of the long buried Belgians were blown out of their graves.

Seeing all this frightful devastation, all these utteily destitute people who were beginning to return to their homes, oi rather to where their homes used to be, made one look at things m quite a new light, one's mental equiporem had to be re-arranged, as i* were, new and true values substituted for old and false ones.

A few weeks before the armis'ice was signed I was eva ouat ed from bhe CCS. sick- — only tiled really- and travelled down on an ambulance train with a load of wounded Tommies to a base hospital m Boulogne, and two days after the signing I set oi; for sick leave to the South of France again. I stayed a few hours m Paris en route ; it was still m the thrall of the armistice rejoicing, and the people — not the French people particularly, but the cosmopolitan co mes there 1 — se emed t o have gone mad .

Nearly a year had passed since my last trip to the south. I found Lady Gifford still m charge of the " Eslerel," but quite a new staff of V.A.D.'s This time there was no petrol for motor parties, so we had to

do most of our tripping by train. Seven of vs — two South Africans, one American, one Canadian, one Scottish, one English (of the regular army) and myself — formed a party. We were all quite interesting to each other, belonging as we did to different countries.

On my way back to the north I stayed forty-eight hours m Paris, and spent one never-to-be-forgotten day wandering about the palaces and grounds at Versailles. On arriving at Boulogne I got my orders to return to the New Zealand Stationary Hospital at Wisques. When I got there I was told that it was not worth while unpacking as I was to return to England any day. I felt very sad about this," as I wanted to stay and leave with the unit, however,

the days grew into weeks, and we all left together, arriving m England on the 27th December.

When I started to write this, I meant to tell more about the work m Fiance but when it comes to setting down details- — and it is details that would make it interesting ■ — I find that. I cannot do it. Things happened so thick and fast that it is impossible now, after this lapse of time, to set them down. Every day I find some incidents- — sad, h&ppy, tragic, ludicrous, beautiful, and horrible^ — coming back to my memory ; things that I have never thought of since they occurred, and I regret that I have not the power to make them as interesting to other people as they were and are still to myself.