MEDICAL ORDERLY AN AFTERNOON IN A MAIN DRESSING STATION DURING ACTION

Korero (AEWS), Volume 2, Issue 13, 3 July 1944, Page 26

MEDICAL ORDERLY AN AFTERNOON IN A MAIN DRESSING STATION DURING ACTION

By

This descriptive sketch was awarded first prize in its section in the recent Services literary competitions.

ct frl here’s a rush on down at the I hospital ; you’re wanted right away,” said the Sergeant-Ma as he poked his head into our tent in the early afternoon. Our main dressing station consisted of over a dozen tents grouped around an operating “theatre” and resuscitation (blood transfusion) tent. In other circumstances we would have considered the site an attractive —dark green tents amid the restful green of young palms and . ferns, while overhead towered the full-grown coconut-palms, some of which reached 50 ft. in height. “ Take over No. 3 Surgical Ward,” instructed the Sergeant in charge. “You have five cases at are just awaiting operations.” Having collected all details, I proceeded to an eight-bed tent some 50 yards distant.

Number one . patient was an Allied sailor caught by splinters in. a divebombing attack. His left hand and knee had been hit by fragments. As I checked on his comfort while mentally assessing his condition the duty room orderly slipped in and administered the preoperation injection. . He had already been cleaned up, so there was little that required to be done for him. - ■. . Numbers Two, Three, and Four were a bayonet wound, a bullet hole through the lower arch of the foot, and coral sores. Number Five was another Allied sailor who had been smacked in -the ribs by bomb splinters. The extent of his injuries would not be known until after the surgeon had investigated. “ I can hardly breathe,” he said in answer to my inquiry. “ Feel my pulse, my heart does not seem right.” Though

not in full vigour, his pulse was surprisingly satisfactory. “ Quite ’okay,” he was cheerfully' and truthfully informed. “ The action is regular and at the normal rate.” There was nothing one could do to ease him, and the unspoken pain deep in his eyes hurt one to see; also the work had to go on. “You have no need to worry, and I think you will have less pain after they operate,” was the best my wits rose to. Number One was becoming a little nervous now. “ Can I

have a cigarette ? ” he pleaded. Then when it was finished he wanted a drink of water. In a few minutes the stretcher orderlies arrived. With an encourag-

ing “ You’ll be back soon ” we whisked him to the theatre. “ Get the doctors to save any shrapnel, won’t you ? ” was his parting request.

The numerous evacuations in the morning had left beds to be remade with clean linen and blankets ; mosquito-nets and various accessories damped by the blustery evening rain had to be dried and rehung. While serious cases have an iron bed and mattress, the average patient has camp bed, a doubled blanket, waterproof ground-sheet, sheets, and a top blanket. For battle casualties a second groundsheet is placed over the sheets until the patient can be washed. Top sheet and blanket are folded together “ operation Style ” for ease and speed of covering the new arrivals.

" A second orderly was assisting to replace the detachable tent walls when Number One patient was returned, still unconscious, and Number Five taken. After turning his head to one side to prevent the tongue doubling back and suffocating him, I proceeded with the work while keeping an eye on his position and condition. Soon the eyes flickered, then opened. “ Is the operation over ? ” he queried surprisedly as I hurried to his bed. My heart thrilled at the joyous, relieved smile lighting his face and eyes as he realized the dreaded ordeal was past.

A bowl was placed near his head in case of nausea, and he settled down to relax and drowse. It was not long before he stirred again and looked at his hand—a round mass of bandage looking as if all the fingers had been amputated. “ Have my fingers been cut off ? ” was his distracted query. “ Oh, no, for they said nothing to me of it,” he was told, “ but I will inquire to relieve your mind.” The operating theatre was going full blast and it required a couple of trips before one of the theatre orderlies was contacted. “ There have been no amputations to-day,” he said. “ That chap had a couple of fingers fractured,” interjected a second theatre attendant. I carried the good news of the safety of the fingers, though deferred mention of the broken bones to avoid unnecessary worry until the patient was more recovered from the effects of the operation. A mouth-wash was given, and then, “ Did they get any shrapnel from my leg ? ”he wondered. As the doctors were still operating, this question could not be answered, but he was . satisfied with 'the assurance that the surgeon had noted his request. While attending to washes for the others there came another call from Number One : My head is throbbing unbearably.” As it continued unabated a trip was made to the duty room, where a morphine injection was authorized.

The ward was in ship-shape order again, and there was just sufficient time to treat one patient before the evening mealseptic coral sores, cleansed with hydrogen peroxide and treated with zinc oxide ointment ; and a heat rash dabbed with Calamine lotion. We had just scoffed a hasty snack after feeding the ward when someone announced : “ Here are two more patients for you.” Fortunately they were not serious casualties, and so were able to wash themselves while I scouted round for clean sheets and pyjamas, which were in short supply owing to quantitative demands aggravated by poor drying weather. While a search was made for supplies a second patient was given a hot soak for his bullet wound. Then came a further bombshell: “ Be prepared to receive a patient from the operating theatre. There will also be another with burns.” Number Three patient carried on bathing his foot while the latest operation case was put to bed —-a sturdy New-Zealander who had been struck behind the knee by shrapnel through being slow getting to a foxhole. He was nearly fully conscious and climbed from the stretcher with little help and was soon comfortably fixed. Darkness was now descending, so Number Three’s wound was hurriedly dressed with sulphanilamide powder. Now the new operation case required some attention, darkness necessitating the use of a “ muted ” torch, other lighting being prohibited .because of air raids. The sergeant arrived with a pile of sheets and pyjamas. The first afterdinner arrival was safely bedded, when came the triple wail of the air-raid siren. Some of the “ walking ” patients darted to the foxholes. But the other cases could not be moved. Investigation revealed that my tin hat had been “ borrowed ” by some unknown, so I squatted on Number One’s bed as he showed reaction from his previous bombing. “ Shouldn’t you be lying flat on the ground ? ” he queried considerately. No, lie was reassured ; our only danger so long as no lights were visible was from shrapnel or a raider dumping his bombs

while attempting to avoid night fighters. I chatted for a while, then went on trying to put up mosquito-nets while keeping up a running fire of comments to assure the bed-ridden they were not alone. The “ all clear ” sounded after about twenty minutes, and a corporal unobtrusively took over a couple of dressings to ease the pressure. In a few minutes the sirens wailed another warning, and again we reverted to complete blackness. “ Water,” was an all-round request now. I fumbled in the dark until all were satisfied. Number One complained of severe pain, so a further injection was obtained and duly recorded on his case-sheet. “ Will it have the same vomiting effect as the anaesthetic ? ” he questioned. I explained that the reaction was merely to numb the pain and induce sleep. “ You must excuse the questions; I appreciate tremendously all you are doing, but as this is new to me I am bound to be a little green,” he apologized. After attending a gashed knee I resumed the slow, trying job of arranging the mosquito-nets in the black-out ; because of the many tapes one would tie a middle tape on to an end and have to undo and begin again. The ack-ack guns opened up, but the shell-bursts were not directly overhead. Just as the last net was being erected the night orderly arrived. He was told the names and positions of all the patients and their condition, and given detailed accounts of the ones likely to need attention, the number of morphine injections and the time administered. His offer to finish tidying the ward was politely declined. Some thirty minutes later 9.30 — as I sloshed through the mud to company quarters the sirens announced the “ all clear.” I noted sympathetically that the operating theatre was still goinga fourteen-hour stretch and I went on my way, using the continuous rattle of cutlery in my mess-tins as an indication to the armed guards that the night wanderer was unit personnel.