I WENT TO MACEDONIA

New Zealand Listener, Volume 4, Issue 92, 28 March 1941, Page 43

I WENT TO MACEDONIA

(Written for "The Listener" by

CONSTANCE

FULLER

N 1917 I joined a unit of the Scottish Women’s Hospitals attached to the Serbian Army, then in Macedonia. We went on a French hospital ship from Toulon to Salonika, and about ten one morning set off in a very strange narrow little ambulance, accompanied by a Serbian doctor and orderly, and driven by a Serbian chauffeur, At this stage we could not speak a word of Serbian, so we had to make ourselves understood with the aid of a little French, and many gestures. The journey was a most memorable one. We were sent off so unexpectedly, and so hurriedly, that we had no provisions with us except a few biscuits and a plum cake which somebody very kindly pushed through the window as we were leaving. However, all went well for a time, and then we had puncture after puncture. We were delayed so much that darkness overtook us, and it became colder and colder. We sang all the songs we could remember to keep up our spirits, for we were terribly cold and hungry. Then some of those inside the ambulance became poisoned by the gasoline and were very sick indeed, causing more delay. As I was sitting outside by the chauffeur I

was not so bad as those inside, and only fainted once or twice, without the sickness that attacked the others. We reached Vadena at a quarter past ten, instead of about six o’clock. I, being the fittest, followed the chauffeur who went up some steep steps and opened a door into a small white-washed room full of men smoking and drinking, and containing a long trestle table still bearing the remnants of the last meal. As the smoke cleared, I saw that there were two women in the assembly, and managed to gasp out: "Does: anyone here speak English?" To my great joy, someone answered in my own tongue, so I was able to explain matters, and the others were soon brought in. On Top of a Train The next day an ambulance was sent from our unit, but the roads were so bad that it turned over and was unable to proceed further, so we had to travel by train instead. We waited for hours at the station, sitting on our luggage, until at last the strangest little train came along. There was only one ordinary carriage in front, and it was quite full; the rest consisted of trucks, like a. luggage train, with some motor vehicles on them. Everywhere there were soldiers — Serbians, Russians, French Colonials, and Italians. We could see no place for us at first, but eventually climbed on the front of a queer kind of engine, perched on one of the

trucks. Here the three of us managed to squeeze in. I found that we were raised high above the top of the front carriage, and the engine. The country we passed through was gorgeous, and, of course, we had an uninterrupted view. But it was different when we came to tunnels. One tunnel was so long that I began to fear suffocation before we reached the pure air again. Eventually, however, we arrived at Ostrovo where the C.O. herself came to welcome us, and drove us to the hospital. Precious Spoons Imagine our surprise on entering the mess tent to find it lighted by electricity with power from the X-ray apparatus. The hospital was miles from anywhere, right .up in the hills, and near the border of beautiful Lake Ostrovo. For me it was an entirely new experience to come to a hospital under canvas, and so remote. Much to our amazement, on our first morning we were presented with enamel plates, bowl and mug, which we carried round in a bag, together with knife, fork and spoon. Spoons, it appeared, had a very curious way. of disappearing, and anyone would be willing to lend you half-a-crown, but a spoon was a very different matter. You had your work cut out to watch your own things, seize them, dry them, and put them back into your " nose-bag." It was on such occasions, I fear, that many spoons were lost and won, Wonderful Patients Very soon I found myself busy with a number of massage patients, mostly | cases of fractured limbs and injured nerves. I was filled with admiration at the wonderful courage of these Serbians. Their patience and endurance were marvellous. The Serbian peasant is, in many ways, like a child, and is as easily interested and amused. I got on excellently with them. I still remember the amusement I caused by my plan for giving out the linen,- which I carted round in a clean sheet on a wheelbarrow, calling at the tents in turn. Our laundry tent was down by the lake, a beautiful site, but the girls had to work very hard indeed to get through all the washing and ironing necessary. Now, twenty-four years after, it looks as if all that labour and sorrow — for there are tragic scenes in all hospitals — may have to be endured again. I wonder if any of my companions of those strange days will find themselves in Macedonia a second time.