Deborah Carr - The Poppy Field - A gripping and emotional historical romance

She helped Mary wash and change her patient who had calmed down a little after receiving a morphine injection. These new arrivals always unsettled the patients, thought Alice. It was upsetting to witness those that had found comfort in the security of the hospital, to be reminded of what they would probably return to.

She glanced over at one patient, relieved to see one of the sisters soothing him. The recent amputation of his lower leg meant he had to be kept as still as possible. The last thing they needed was for him to haemorrhage. Alice doubted most of these men would ever come to terms with what they had experienced.

“Were you at Guillemont?” she heard the captain quietly ask Corporal Healy. “I heard it was particularly bad there.”

“Yes,” he hesitated. “It was a nightmare. We’ve been there since the third of September. That’s where I got this hole in my foot. Some bloody Hun caught me in the village, just as I was running for cover behind a wall.”

The captain frowned. “Many men down?”

The corporal shook his head and cleared his throat, his voice cracking as he answered. “Far too many. It was a bloodbath. Men were being mown down in their droves. I wonder if, in a hundred years, anyone will remember all the Irish blokes who lost their lives there this week?”

“I think about that often,” the captain admitted. “All of us cannon fodder. I can’t help thinking about all the families that will never be. Will future generations commemorate what we’ve done, or do their best to forget us?”

Alice wondered the same thing. She had never heard the captain speaking so frankly before, but he voiced what most of them must be thinking. It was only September and the war had been dragging on for over two years now. Unable to bear seeing the endless columns of names of the missing and fallen, Alice had stopped reading the papers months ago.

“How about you?” the corporal asked Captain Woodhall. “What brought you to this place?”

He touched the bandage on his head. “Thankfully, this is more of a graze than anything,” he said. “Could have been far worse.” They both looked over at two men on the other side of the ward, both with thick dressings covering one side of their faces and heads. “Also, a bullet sliced through my side, near my right hip.”

“I’m hoping this is a Blighty one,” Corporal Healy whispered. “My wife’s struggling to cope at home with the kids.”

“How many have you got?”

“Six. Five boys and a little girl,” he smiled, groaning as he reached to lift up a photo from his small selection of personal items. “My daughter, Kathleen’s only nineteen months old.”

Hearing the corporal talk about his children chilled Alice. What if he was to lose his leg to infection? She had heard about it happening too many times to count, men with families losing the ability to obtain gainful employment after losing a limb. Her concern for how these injured men and their families would survive after the war ended, kept her awake at night.

She hoped the corporal wouldn’t be one of them, not with such a large family relying on his earnings. She’d speak to the surgeon as soon as she finished helping Mary. Sister Brown would be furious if she discovered Alice had over-stepped her authority, but she couldn’t take a chance that his infection might be missed. If he needed surgery as soon as possible, and she was almost certain he did, she needed to speak up. She had seen how rapidly and uncontrollably infection could spread through these weakened men’s systems once it took hold.

“You got any kids?” She heard the corporal ask and glanced over at the two men again.

Captain Woodhall shook his head. “No. No kids.”

“Married?”

There was a hesitation before Alice heard him answer, “No. No wife, either.”

Alice looked at him then and their eyes met for a few seconds, before he turned away to answer another of the corporal’s questions. Something had happened to him, she could tell. But what? Had his fiancée called off their engagement, like she had done?

Spotting Matron standing in the entrance, Alice finished redressing a wound on another patient when a particularly loud bombardment exploded nearby. Alice’s heart pounded heavily and a few of the newer patients stared at her, their eyes wide with concern.

“It probably sounds closer because of the wind direction,” she said, recalling how this explanation had calmed her on her arrival. “We’re perfectly safe here.”

She was interrupted by shouting outside the ward. Alice walked as quickly as she could to find out the cause of the commotion. Two of the orderlies were restraining a young patient in the middle of a grand mal episode on the wooden walkway. Alice returned to the ward, grabbed a blanket and pillow and went back to help. She carefully raised the patient’s head and placed the pillow underneath. She didn’t want him banging his head, causing himself even more damage. His contorted body finally relaxed, but the man seemed barely conscious. She covered him with a blanket to keep him warm and glanced at the closest orderly.

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