IN THE NIGHT

Hokitika Guardian, 14 September 1918, Page 4

IN THE NIGHT

“ Nurse, a convoy is expected at midnight; see, that everything is ready. The day nurses must be on dut/” "

“ Yes, sister.” Immediately probationers set to work.

Beds must be prepared for “ stretcher cases,” the top bedclothes mast Ire rolled lengthways, and blankets so arranged that the patient lies between for the required “ blanket bath ” which takes place on arrival.

In the lockers beside each bed must he placed three empty bags to receive respectively the patient’s clothing to be sterilised, his hoots arid strappings," his personal belongings—letters, children’s photographs, German ballets and buttons, and other souvenirs. There mast also he a white shirt, red tie, handkerchief, soap and flannel, —and for the “ walking cases ” felt slippers and suit of blue. And, lastly, a postcard. And woe betide the probationer if one article is missing from its appointed place. * * * * * At 1 a m. a purring sound at the front entrance announces the arrival of the first motor-ambulance.

Immediately the great hospital becomes alive—day nurses hasten to their wards, whei’e the hush of sleep still prevails.

In the distance the even tread of men’s feet can be heard as the precious burdens are borne steadily along the corridors. The lights go up as the first patient arrives in the ward—a fluttering round the bed, and the stretcherbearers withdraw. Other patients soon follow. Olliers limp in on crotches, others walk with steady step but with tattered sleeves dangling empty. From a mass of bandages a pair of mischievous blue eyes look out piercingly. And stretchers follow stretchers.

The present occupiers of the ward, all wide awake sit up and ask questions, but conversation is dilatory ; the newcomers are straight from France and are too weary to talk.

There is something peculiarly pathetic about this return in the quiet of the night—something which makes the heart cry in the midst of all the work there is to do. So lustily did they go out, the spirit of battle and the spirit of duty hot within them. Broken and battered, dirty and tired, do they return, with a label affixed to them denoting their names and regiments and the nature of their wounds.

In one corner is a man in great pain. He was repairing wire when he was hit, as the piece still wound round his arm bears testimony. Silently he lies throughout the process of cleansing him of the mud of France, and throughout the painful process of dressing his terrible wound only once does he speak. “Nurse, can you change French monej r here P ” “ I expect so.” “Because I’ve only got French money with me and I want to buy a

stamp.” “ All, but you can have as many stamps as you want." Even at 2 a.m. and in the midst of his agony he is thinking of someone eagerly watching out for news. Bovril and bread and milk are taken round. “ Have some ? ” “ Sorry, nurse, I can’t hold it. I’ve got one arm in a splint and I loft the other in Prance.” “You poor sonl ! ” “ What makes me wild is that I lost my gold ring with it! ” All have had baths and are comfortably in bed. “ Oh, but it’s too mighty good to be true.”

■ *‘ You must go to sleep now.” “ 1 can’t, nurse; I just can’t give over thinking that I’m back in old England again.”