In Love and War (35 page)

Dressed in their civilian clothes, they assembled in the office where they had first met. ‘I'm even more nervous now than I was on that first day,' Elsie said breathlessly. ‘What will we do if we've failed?'

‘Say goodbye to each other and san fairy ann,' Angela said airily, but Elsie was not fooled by her apparent unconcern: the taut lines at the corners of Angela's generous mouth and the wary look in her brown eyes gave her away.

‘I don't want to go home a failure.' Rosemary glanced nervously at the door. ‘He'll come breezing in here as if he hasn't a care in the world.'

‘I don't suppose he has,' Daisy said with a wry smile. ‘He'll have to put up with the next batch of recruits and he'll be rid of us.'

‘He's coming.' Elsie took a deep breath. ‘Now for it, girls. Will we be members of the First Aid Nursing Yeomanry when we walk out of here, or will we be looking for jobs outside?'

THE CROSSING FROM
Dover to Calais was rough, and the sea was a tumult of grey water whipped into white-crested waves. Troops packed the deck of the cross-Channel steamer and the girls were not given any special treatment. Huddled in their greatcoats, Elsie, Rosemary, Angela and Daisy sat on hard wooden benches along with several other women, some of whom were new recruits to the Nursing Yeomanry and others were returning from home leave. The noise of the engines was drowned out by the roaring of the wind and the pounding on the iron hull as it rode the waves and crashed down into the deep troughs.

It was dark and Elsie was well aware of the danger from German U-boats lurking beneath the water, but no one dared to voice their fears. These predators of the deep had already claimed many lives, adding to the threat from German warships and bombing from the air during daylight hours. Elsie could only hope and pray that they arrived safely. The start of their journey had been delayed by fog, but now as they neared the coast of France they were hit by the extreme cold, and as they entered Calais harbour snow was falling. Elsie was excited and scared at the same time but at least she was no longer sitting at home waiting for news, which was almost always bad. Every time the telephone rang she had feared the worst and the sight of the telegram messengers filled her with dread, but as far as she was aware Guy had as yet come to no harm.

The ship slid alongside the quay wall and they were disembarked with surprising speed. Snow was thick on the ground as she put her foot on French soil for the first time in over a year. The air was so cold that with each breath Elsie felt as though she was inhaling icicles. The women waited patiently on the dock, standing back while the men were marshalled into groups and marched off into the night, their booted feet trampling the snow until it was hard-packed and shone like glass. In the distance Elsie could hear what sounded like the rumble of thunder, but she realised with a shock that it was gunfire. Then, out of the darkness, a woman muffled to the eyes in a fur coat and hat strode towards them.

‘Welcome to France, ladies. My name is Muriel Higson and I'm driving you to our camp outside St Omer. It's about twenty-two miles from here and the roads are in a terrible state, so it'll take some time to get there.' She turned on her heel and motioned them to follow her. ‘We'll introduce ourselves properly when we get there – unless of course we get stuck in a snowdrift en route.' She chortled with laughter as she walked off, leaving them no alternative but to hurry after her.

‘What have we come to?' Rosemary murmured as she grasped Elsie's arm for support.

‘I don't know,' Elsie whispered. ‘But I think we're going to find out.'

Their transport was a truck which looked as though it had seen better days. Muriel climbed into the driver's seat and one of the more senior women sat up front with her, leaving the others to make themselves as comfortable as possible on the hard wooden benches beneath the canvas roof. Muriel drove off and the truck lurched over ruts and skidded on the frozen surface of the road, but she handled its erratic progress with considerable expertise.

During their training Elsie had become familiar with this type of vehicle which served the dual purpose of transporting personnel and supplies as well as being used as a field ambulance. The trucks they had practised on had been relatively new and they were maintained regularly. They were cleaned and polished by the recruits as part of their job, but this vehicle was old and battered, and the smell of blood, urine and gangrene had not been completely erased by the generous application of Lysol. Rosemary shivered and moved closer to Elsie. ‘I'm beginning to wish that I'd stayed at home.'

Angela nudged her in the ribs. ‘Shut up, Rosie. We're here to do a job and this is just the beginning.'

Rosemary began to cry silently, huge tears coursing down her pale cheeks. ‘Leave her alone,' Elsie said softly. ‘I daresay we're all feeling a bit like that, only we don't want to admit it.'

‘I confess I do.' Daisy cupped her gloved hands and blew on them. ‘I wish I'd worn my sheepskin mittens. I'd no idea it would be so damn cold.'

Angela produced a packet of cigarettes and offered them round, but there were no takers. ‘Suit yourselves.' She lit up and smoked in silence as the truck careered on into the night.

Although she was stiff with cold and could no longer feel her feet or her fingertips, Elsie was drifting off into an uncomfortable doze when the vehicle skidded wildly, lurched and came to a sudden halt. She opened her eyes with a start and found Rosemary in a heap on the floor. ‘Are you all right?'

‘She's fine.' Angela bent down and heaved Rosemary back onto the bench. ‘We seem to be stuck.'

Muriel leapt out of the cab and came round to the back of the vehicle, lifting the flaps and peering inside. ‘I need volunteers,' she said briskly. ‘Three of you take shovels and dig us out and the rest of you can give us a push when I get the engine started.' She walked back to the cab and climbed in. ‘The quicker you dig us out, ladies, the quicker we'll get to the priory and a cup of hot cocoa.'

Everyone clambered out into the freezing darkness and Elsie grabbed a shovel together with Angela and Daisy, leaving Rosemary to help the others push when given the go-ahead. Elsie had not had a proper look at the vehicle in Calais and she was shocked to see that there was no glass in the windscreen. She worked hard digging the front wheels free of the snowdrift, but she was still curious. ‘What happened to the windscreen? Did you have an accident before you got to us?' She turned to Muriel, who was leaning against the bonnet smoking one of Angela's cigarettes.

‘We take the glass out,' Muriel said with a casual shrug of her shoulders. ‘It's safer that way in case of shelling. A faceful of broken glass is the last thing we want.'

‘But how can you drive without headlights and with the snow blowing in your face?'

‘With great difficulty,' Muriel said, chuckling. ‘Which is why I swerved too late to miss that particular drift.' She tossed the dog-end over the hedge. ‘How are we doing girls? The next push should get us home.'

When they eventually reached their destination Elsie stepped out of the vehicle, stiff and sore and on the edge of complete exhaustion. She gazed in awe at the Gothic building, which had been built many centuries ago and was situated on a hill surrounded by woodland. With the moonlight reflecting off the snow, the Priory looked like a setting for Bram Stoker's
Dracula
. Muriel had explained, during one of their brief comfort stops, that the priory had once been a Cistercian monastery, but was now a military hospital. Its towers, spires and pinnacles were constructed in grey stone, and the flying buttresses gave the building the appearance of something that had been constructed not only for the glorification of god, but was a creation by man that would last until the end of time, and this was the place that Muriel called home. Elsie suppressed a shiver, thinking of the comparative cosiness of Tan Cottage and the luxury of Felicia's apartment. If the interior of the priory was anything like the forbidding exterior, they were in for an uncomfortable stay.

Muriel strode up the steps and rang the bell. Its clear peal echoed off the surrounding countryside like a call to prayer, and moments later a tousle-haired orderly opened the heavy oak door. The rusty groan of its iron hinges sounded like a soul in torment, and the sound of their footsteps echoed off the high vaulted ceiling as Elsie followed the others into the gloomy interior. Lit by candles in storm lanterns, the inside of the priory was even creepier than its Gothic façade, and equally cold. The orderly disappeared through a doorway leaving Muriel to escort them to their dormitory in what had once been the wine cellars. ‘We call it the cave,' she said cheerfully. ‘There's acres of room, but not much privacy. You'll get used to that in time.' She lit a candle and handed it to Angela, who happened to be the nearest. ‘We have to be economical with these. Like everything else they're in short supply.' She turned to the group in general. ‘Try to get some sleep.' She waved her hand in the direction of a pile of palliasses and thick grey blankets. ‘Make yourselves comfortable and I'll send someone down with a jug of cocoa. You'll be shown round properly in the morning. Breakfast is at six, so you've got about four hours' kip. Night night, ladies.' She walked off and disappeared into the darkness.

Elsie looked round at her colleagues, all of whom, even Angela, appeared to be stunned into silence. She took some bedding and laid it on the stone floor. ‘I'm worn out, I don't know about the rest of you.'

A murmur of assent was followed by a scramble for the palliasses, which they placed close together, and within minutes they were huddled in their blankets. Despite her attempts to get comfortable Elsie still could feel the cold striking up through the flagstones and she wondered if she would ever feel warm again. Then a young French ward maid appeared carrying a tray of mugs filled with hot cocoa, and was welcomed with cries of delight.

‘This is the best thing that's happened today,' Rosemary said, sipping the hot drink laced with condensed milk. ‘I never liked cocoa until now, but this is ambrosia.'

‘Nectar of the gods,' Angela agreed, wrapping both hands round her mug.

Elsie drank hers, feeling the warmth seeping through her chilled bones. ‘Cheers,' she said sleepily. ‘Let's hope the monks don't haunt this place.'

Rosemary moved a little closer. ‘Don't say things like that, even in jest.' She glanced around at the deep shadows and the shapeless forms of their new colleagues who had slept through their arrival, no doubt exhausted by the demands of their work. ‘I think I prefer sleeping in one of Sergeant Pepper's ghastly tents.'

‘I'm just glad to stretch out at last.' Daisy abandoned her tin mug and lay down, pulling the coarse blanket up to her chin. ‘I've never slept in my clothes and my overcoat before, and I'm still bloody freezing.'

Elsie snuggled up as best she could. ‘G'night, girls. I wonder what tomorrow will bring.'

‘It's already tomorrow,' Rosemary said sleepily.

Elsie was awakened from a deep sleep by the sound of voices and the pitter-patter of scurrying feet. She opened her eyes and it was still dark, but there were fragmented patches of candlelight as the old hands rose from their beds and made themselves ready for the day.

‘Best get up,' one of them said cheerfully as she hurried past. ‘Breakfast is at six sharp and if you're late you'll go without. It's first come first served here.' She raced off together with several others, leaving their bedding neatly stacked. Elsie scrambled to her feet and woke the others. Angela groaned and told her to buzz off, but Elsie dragged the blanket away from her and did the same to Daisy and Rosemary. By this time the rest of the new girls had awakened and were gazing round dazedly.

They found the dining room by following a young nurse who had risen late and was hurrying along the cloister with the tails of her white cap flying out behind her like agitated seagulls. The welcome sight of a blazing log fire greeted them as they entered the refectory, but the heat it might have given out was lost as it wafted up into the high ceiling. Elsie's breath steamed in clouds around her head, and as she took her place at one of the long oak tables she wondered how anyone managed to survive in such conditions. A mug of hot tea helped to bring her back to life, and she took a bread roll from one of the baskets set on the table, but there was neither butter nor jam to make it more palatable. Copying one of the nurses who obviously knew how things were done in the priory, she broke the coarse rye bread into small pieces and dipped them in her tea.

‘Don't worry, love,' the older woman said, rising to her feet. ‘You'll soon get used to it. I've been in several camps since the start of the whole thing, and this one isn't too bad. You'll get the hang of things.' She strolled off, exchanging pleasantries with a couple of nurses from the next table.

Elsie swallowed a mouthful of food. ‘Thanks,' she murmured, but her new friend was already out of earshot. One thing Elsie had noticed straight away was that everyone here moved swiftly, as if they were in a tearing hurry. Perhaps it was simply to keep warm, or maybe it was so that they could cram all the work expected of them into their waking hours. She was about to find out.

Muriel rose from the table on the far side of the room and came over to them. ‘I hope you managed to get some sleep,' she said, looking round at their expectant faces. ‘You're all here as drivers, not nurses, so when you've finished your meal I want you to come out into the courtyard where we keep the trucks and ambulances. You'll work in pairs, teaming up with the experienced drivers, and you'll be expected to keep your vehicles clean, disinfected and well maintained. You've all undergone your initial training, but this is the real thing. We're dealing with life and death here. It may seem like a cushy billet not too close to the firing line, but there's always the danger from the air. Being in a former monastery doesn't mean that we're safe from incendiary bombs or shelling.' She smiled cheerfully. ‘But we're here to do a job, ladies, so follow me.' She walked off purposefully and Elsie jumped to her feet along with the others.