Page 26 of Summer in Greece

My thoughts went to the island of Lemnos where, we’d been told, four thousand casualties awaited our arrival at the port of Mudros. We would arrive later today. I couldn’t imagine that number of injured men. Where would Matron put them all? The Britannic only had three and a half thousand cots in her wards.

I would be up to my elbows in bedpans.

I called on our Sissy for strength, knowing my responsibilities were a test. In the back of my mind, I could hear her bold voice. Come on, Gertie, you’re my sister; dig deep and find your courage. Don’t let the side down, for God’s sake! How can we claim equal pay and equal respect as women if we can’t even deal with a little stink or unpleasantness? There are plenty of eighteen-year-old soldiers suffering far more for their king and country!

Then, I found myself alone with the six male patients. My heart thumped as though I was surrounded by a threatening gang. They would know, of course, that I was a fraud. I was no more a nurse than I was a twenty-three-year-old. I felt their eyes on me, like crows around a chicken carcass. Don’t look at them. Sweat drenched my armpits. Their eyes scrutinised my body whichever way I turned.

I heard Sissy’s voice: Collect the bedpans and hide away in the sluice room, Gertie.

The men made the most of my naïvety.

‘Nurse, I have a terrific swelling, could you take a look?’ one cried, which brought much laughter, but left me mortified. Every time I bent down to collect a pan, they clucked or whistled. I was desperate to get out of that ward. I’d just stacked the ward’s porcelain pots by the door when Perkins called.

‘Nurse, my dressing’s drying up!’ My face was already in flames, and I was in such a state by that point, it wouldn’t have taken much to set my tears off. The sandy-haired engineer who’d called me over had suffered a damaged arm when a jack failed and a wheel hub crashed down on his humerus.

‘Don’t let them get to you, nurse,’ he whispered. ‘Just think of them as naughty children. You’re doing fine and the other nurses will be back in fifteen minutes.’ He smiled in such a lovely way. ‘Now, open the screw at the base of that bottle of hypochlorite of soda, above the bed, and allow it to run down the tube and into my dressing. It’s going to kill any germs that are still hanging around.’

‘Thank you, it’s my first time,’ I said quietly. ‘I’m a little nervous.’

He smiled, glancing around at the other soldiers. ‘The best way to deal with the other patients is to be just as cocky back. Make sure they understand that you’re in charge.’

‘Thank you,’ I said quietly, then in a louder voice, ‘There, you’ll be fine, Corporal.’ He was an incorrigible flirt and had a wicked twinkle in his eye. The truth was, I found him to be quite adorable. According to his chart, the Corporal was twenty-three. A hint of freckles and boyish good looks made him appear much younger.

‘Will you call me Johnny, nurse?’ he said quietly, then winked. He glanced at my name badge. ‘You’re real pretty, Gertie Smith. Is there a boyfriend back home?’

‘Behave, you’re too bold, soldier. You’ll get me into trouble.’ My heart fluttered whenever our eyes met.

‘Why, what will you do, chain me to the bed like one of them suffragettes? Oh dear, you’re blushing again, nurse. We’ll have to overcome that little weakness or the other patients will never give you any peace.’ His gentle smile exposed even white teeth that showed no sign of him being a smoker. He frowned. ‘Cor, miss, I’m not one to complain, but it ain’t half stinky in here.’

‘It’s that lot,’ I said, nodding at the white porcelain tower by the door. ‘I was about to take care of them when you distracted me.’

A shudder rumbled through the ship with such violence, I had to grab a bedrail to stay upright. The bedpan tower toppled, their contents spilling onto the ward’s floor.

‘What on earth was that?’ I cried. ‘Good Lord, look at the mess. Matron will be furious!’

‘Boilerhouse problems by the sound of it,’ Perkins replied. ‘Don’t worry, the Britannic’s guaranteed unsinkable.’

‘Didn’t they say that about the Titanic? Look where that got them.’ I stared at the floor, wondering what had rattled the ship with such violence.

Perkins’s neighbour pleaded, ‘What a pong! Can’t you open the portholes?’

‘No, it’s forbidden. What if a big wave came in and soaked all the bedding? Where would we be then?’

Andrews, the ship’s painter with a broken leg, piped up. ‘Look outside, nurse. Flat as glass it is. Besides, they’re twenty-five feet above the water line, I know, I was painting around the portholes below us when the cradle tipped and dropped me onto the quayside.’ He pointed to his leg strapped into one of our new Thomas splints.

‘What’s the point of portholes if not to ventilate the deck?’ Perkins said. ‘Just open them for ten minutes. Let in some fresh air.’

‘Go on, nurse! Do us all a favour,’ another patient cried. ‘Ten minutes won’t hurt. Worse than mustard gas, that stench is.’

They all joined in, bullying and teasing and doing their best to embarrass me.

‘Stop it! All right, that’s enough now! Just while I’m in the sluicing room.’ I rushed the length of the ward, turning hefty bronze pivots and swinging the portholes open. For a moment I was Sissy: in control, in charge, doing the job and being competent . . . and it felt wonderful!

The men clapped and cheered. Still blushing, but soaking up the glory, I scurried off to the sluice room, returning with a mop, bucket, and hand shovel, when repeated short blasts followed by a long blast on the foghorn reverberated through the ward.

‘Of all the times to have a muster-stations drill! Right, I’m going to give you all your lifesavers, try and get them on yourselves. I have to mop up this mess and close the portholes before Staff Nurse returns or I’ll be for it!’

I had hardly started when the corridor filled with rushing nurses. Gloria, a fellow VAD, rushed into the ward first, skidded on the slurry, and with a loud squeal, landed on her bottom in the mess.