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

“Nurse Le Breton, Nurse Jones,” she called waving over Alice and Mary. There’s a pile of bandages at the back of the tent there,” she said pointing. “Take them to be burnt and get back here straight after.”

Alice was carrying a pile of soiled dressings, trying not to get blood on her clean apron, when a smirking patient stood in front of her on the boardwalk dragging on a cigarette.

“Excuse me,” she said, trying to side-step the man. When he didn’t move, she stepped to the right to pass him, only for him to block her route once more. Not wishing to get into an unnecessary argument with him, she glared at him.

“What the hell are you doing?” Doctor Sullivan bellowed coming up to them. “Move aside and let the volunteer nurse pass, now.”

The patient did as he was told. He doesn’t look nearly as full of himself now, she realised, amused.

“Thank you, Doctor Sullivan,” she said hurrying off, hearing the doctor scolding the patient. Having thrown the revolting mess into the fire, Alice washed her hands in the sluice room and returned to wait near Matron.

As she walked, she thought of the doctor and his eighteen-hour long shifts battling to save patients. Alice didn’t know how he and the other surgeons carried on working, day after day. They rarely had a day off, or at least, that was how it seemed to her.

A loud uproar alerted her to a disturbance outside the ward. Without hesitating, Alice grabbed the string of a large jar containing a lit candle and ran outside to help.

More ambulances had arrived. The crying and groaning increased. Matron, the front of her beige uniform bloodied, pointed for Alice to go and assist with the ambulance next to where she was standing. Doctor Sullivan and two other surgeons ran from the direction of their huts to the theatre wards.

Three men were lifted out of the first ambulance, all of whom were conscious. Alice noticed that there was a further patient. This one was still, and she had to take his pulse to be certain he was still alive. He was. Just. “Take these men to Ward Five,” she said. “Please, hurry. There are nurses in there who’ll tell you which bed to put them in,” she said, as the fourth man’s stretcher was slowly pulled back from the vehicle.

Holding up her lantern, she narrowed her eyes and studied the patient. He was covered in dried earth and lice, but then so many of the men were. She lifted the tag attached to his uniform jacket and saw that he had received a shrapnel wound to his head and a bullet had grazed his hip.

“Bring him with me,” she said, covering him up to his neck with the brown blanket. “This way.”

They followed her to Ward Five. Inside, she scanned the tent for a free bed. He would need one as far away from the door as possible, she decided. He needed to be kept warm and Alice was relieved to discover a bed at the other end of the ward. Hurrying over, she carefully passed nurses stripping, cleaning and tending to wounds on the new patients.

“Here,” she said. They placed him down on the bed and left her to it.

The poor man was very cold, despite the warm day. Much colder than the other soldiers she had come across that evening. Alice didn’t like to think how low his body temperature must have fallen. He groaned and winced as she undid his uniform jacket.

“You’re safe now,” she said. “My name is Nurse Le Breton. I’m going to wash and change you. A doctor will be here to check on you as soon as he can.”

When she moved his head slightly, blood covered her hand. Alice saw Mary finishing with a nearby patient and waved her over.

“Can you help me, please?” she asked and Mary hurried over. Alice held the patient up by his shoulders while Mary removed the clothes from his torso. Carefully resting him down again, they both removed his trousers and underclothes. Keeping him covered as much as possible, they quickly washed him before cleaning and redressing his hip wound. “Fetch an extra blanket,” she said quietly to a passing probationer. “Be as quick as you can.”

Alice was aware that she should not move his head any more than was necessary, but his bandage was filthy and soaked with blood. “We need to change this,” she said, waiting for Mary to raise his head slightly, so she would remove the dirty dressing. Cleaning the wound as best she could, Alice pressed two new dressings against it before bandaging it.

“That’s better,” Mary said, lowering his head gently onto the pillow. “I’ll make up his records, while you let Matron know his situation.”

“Thank you,” Alice said. “He’s,” she checked his tag again. “Captain Edgar Woodhall.”

Alice spotted Nurse Haines returning to the ward and took the extra blanket from her. Lying it over the Captain, she took his temperature, once again. “We need to bring his body temperature up, slowly, but surely,” she said to Mary. Alice knew her friend was as aware as she, what needed to be done for the patient, but could not help herself.

Mary gave her one of her, bugger-off-and-leave-me-to-get-on, looks. Alice took a deep breath. “Sorry, I’ll go to speak to Matron.”

She went to Matron’s office but couldn’t find her there. Alice assumed she was still frantically working with her nurses on the new patients. They all knew that the sooner the men were cleaned, settled and their records were taken, the sooner they could be given the correct treatment for their injuries and start to recover.

Alice was diverted from her ministrations by cries of pain emanating from the surgery tent. She shivered, imagining the surgeons battling to save lives. Slipping and almost falling on the wooden pathway, Alice righted herself and spotted Matron coming out of one of the furthest wards.

“What is it, Nurse Le Breton?” she said in hushed irritation. “Oughtn’t you be busy elsewhere?”

Indignant at the other woman’s accusatory tone, Alice had to contain herself from answering back. Her mother always criticised her for being too sure of herself.

“I was looking for you.” Alice explained.

“I can see that, but why?”

Alice explained about Captain Woodhall’s low body temperature. “He’s not responding much and seems very cold.”

Matron’s expression changed from one of annoyance, to concern. “I gather he was stranded overnight in No Man’s Land.” She glanced in the direction of the ward. “I’m surprised he survived,” she added, her voice lower, so as not to be overheard. “What with his injuries and the night being one of the coldest we’ve experienced for weeks.”

“He’s lucky he’s made it this far,” Alice said almost to herself.

“What was that, Nurse Le Breton?” Matron asked as they hurried to the ward.

“Only that he must be strong,” Alice said, without thinking.

“And lucky,” Matron said. “to be found by a casualty dog. It stayed with him until stretcher-bearers could reach him.”

Alice had heard about the dogs, who were trained to take medical supplies to injured soldiers. She recalled hearing a patient say how the dogs carried first aid packs to wounded soldiers on the battlefield and that if the soldier was unconscious, the dog would snuggle up keeping him warm.

The thought of Captain Woodhall being kept alive by a little dog brought a lump to Alice’s throat. There were so many cruel and unnecessary acts being performed every day. At times she wondered if she was ever going to feel real joy again. Discovering that a small dog could make the difference between life and death made her heart swell. It reminded her that every small, seemingly insignificant job she undertook helped one of these men.

“Now nurse, unless you have anything you wish to ask me, I suggest you return to the ward and keep a closer eye on Captain Woodhall. He must be observed at all times. Or, at least until his body temperature returns to within the normal parameters.”