The Poppy Field: A gripping and emotional historical romance. Deborah Carr

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      “Is this a casualty clearing station? No,” he answered without opening his eyes. “It can’t be, I didn’t think there were VADs at a CCS.”

      “We’re welcome in many more places than we were a couple of years ago,” she said, straightening his sheet. “You have a bit of a fever.”

      “How long have I been here?”

      “Three days.”

      His eyes scanned the room. He went to sit up, wincing in pain, before collapsing back on his bed.

      Alice could see the panic on his face. She was used to men reacting in this way when they recovered consciousness. Their first reaction, once discovering that they were in a medical unit, was often wanting to ascertain why they were there and what damage had been done to their bodies.

      “Rest, now,” she said calmly.

      “What happened to me?” He went to sit up again, then must have thought the better of it and closed his eyes. “Everything hurts. Please, what are my injuries?”

      Aware he would fret until he knew, Alice answered with as much reassurance as possible, “You’ve received a shrapnel wound to the side of your head,” she said. “You were lucky, it wasn’t very deep. You’ve also been shot in your side, near your hip. Again, you should be fine.” He visibly relaxed. Alice stood up. “That’s enough for now. You need to get as much rest as possible. You can ask more questions in the morning.”

      “Thank you, Nurse,” he said, calmer. He opened his eyes. and Alice saw that they were the colour of dark chocolate. A kindness emanated from them, she liked him immediately. “What’s your name?”

      “I’m Nurse Le Breton,” she said, smiling at him.

      “You don’t sound French,” he murmured.

      “I’m not,” she said, amused that he was so inquisitive, despite being drowsy and in pain. She was intrigued that his focus had gone from worrying about his injuries to her home. “I’m from Jersey.” He opened his mouth to speak again and she shook her head. “No more questions. You need your rest. Now, sleep.”

      He closed his eyes again and she saw him relax slightly. But as Alice began walking away a bugle call sounded and her heart plummeted. Another convoy of broken men on their way for treatment. She looked around the tent, crammed with occupied beds. How were they supposed to fit in any more wounded?

      She hurried outside to wait with the others for Matron to give her orders. Ambulance, after ambulance rolled into the dusty yard. How was it possible for these poor men to keep coming in? Soon there would be none left to fight at this rate.

      “Nurse Le Breton, Nurse Fielding, you take the second ambulance over by Sister Brown.”

      They hurried over to it, arriving as the driver opened the door. Several orderlies appeared to help carry the injured men. Alice took Sister Brown’s lantern, lifting it so she could inspect the soldier’s tag attached to his uniform jacket.

      “Take him to Ward Two,” Sister instructed the orderlies. Lowering her voice so the semi-conscious soldier couldn’t hear, she added to Alice, “He needs to be away from the door, in one of the quieter beds. I’m not sure he’s going to make it.”

      She nodded, handed Sister Brown’s lantern to Mary and followed the stretcher to the ward.

      The following two soldiers weren’t as close to death as the first one, but both had bloody bandages around stumps on their legs.

      “These men are to be taken to the Theatre Ward, as soon as possible. “The surgeon can check them and decide what he wants to do.”

      The final stretcher was pulled from the back of the dusty ambulance. Alice forced a calm smile on her face when she gazed into his dirty, panic-stricken face. The bandage covering half his face was thick with layers of dressing, but still the blood was oozing through. She read his tag, but his face was the only injured part of him mentioned.

      “Ward Seven?”

      Sister Brown looked at her and nodded.

      Of all the wards, Ward Seven was the one that Alice found the most difficult to deal with. She wasn’t sure why. After all, the men who had lost limbs were going to find it difficult to integrate into the outside world, too. Somehow though, the men with damaged faces, found it harder to cope than those who’d lost limbs. Alice supposed it was because people found it hard to look in the mirror and not recognise the person staring back.

      She couldn’t help hoping their loved ones would put aside any misgivings about these men’s new physical situation to support them. It upset all the nursing staff when they heard of a fiancée calling off an engagement after seeing the result hot shrapnel had done to their loved one’s face.

      The night was long and filled with the usual cries of pain, panic and horror, but Alice didn’t mind being on night duty, especially after a new influx of injured came to the station. The time flew by as she moved from bed to bed, assisting the sisters, or Matron.

      Just after two in the morning, Alice was finishing redressing a leg wound. She enjoyed having established recognition from Matron Bleasdale and being allowed to carry out tasks usually only permitted to be done by qualified nurses.

      “Nurse Le Breton,” one of the younger volunteers shouted, breathless from running to find her. “Doctor Sullivan needs you to assist in Theatre Two immediately.”

      Alice stood up. Ordinarily she would never pass on work to a probationer, but this was an emergency. “This is nearly done,” she said handing over the bandage carefully. “You’ll need to finish it for me.”

      Excitement coursed through Alice. Ever since joining the VADs she had dreamt of assisting during a surgery. This, though, was the first time she had been called to do so. She arrived at the theatre tent moments later, trying not to show her nervousness.

      “Wash your hands in there,” Matron Bleasdale instructed, removing a blood-stained apron. “Hurry, now. The surgeon needs you to relieve the current nurse, she’s unwell.” She left Alice to prepare.

      Alice quickly scrubbed and dried her hands. Pulling her apron straps over each shoulder she crossed them, fumbling with the material as she tied them in a bow at her back, before rushing in to the theatre.

      “What kept you,” the surgeon barked, his black eyebrows knitted together in a frown. “I called for you long ago.”

      She didn’t care to argue. “Sorry, Sir,” she said.

      Alice had noticed how strained the surgeons seemed recently. The continuing arrival of patients increased the relentless surgeries each man had to perform. Alice was exhausted, with every muscle aching, but she could only imagine how they must be feeling. If only more tents and beds could be brought to the station, as well as more surgeons and nursing staff, she thought. Surely, they would be falling ill soon themselves, if they didn’t get some relief from the endless work.

      “Hand me that clamp,” he said indicating the instrument he wanted. He then looked down on the operating table at the soldier, his chest opened on one side. “Blast. Another, now.”

      Trying not to panic, Alice did as he asked. “Call another nurse to assist. СКАЧАТЬ