Town. It was pouring with rain, but Sister ---- went off at once to find
a cab, while I hastily packed up, paid our mess bill, &c. Before she got
back, there was a telephone message to tell us to hurry, as the ship was
going soon; we bundled our things on to the cab, and just managed to
catch a train at Wynberg, which (by good luck) was an express, as most
of the trains loiter about at all the suburban stations.
At Cape Town we hastily cabbed to the P.M.O.'s office for orders, but
were told to go straight down to the ship; at the dock gates I sent
Sister on with our small things to the ship, to say we were coming,
while I went to the agents, and was lucky in finding an empty trolley,
and getting them to tumble our heavy baggage on to it, though they said
it was too late for the _Victorian_, as she had been hooting for some
time; however, I got on to the waggon and rattled down to the South Arm.
There I found Sister ---- looking very melancholy, as they told her on
board we were not expected, and there was no room for us, and "where
were our written orders?"
Of course we _had_ no written orders, as all had been by telephone; but
I did not mean to be left behind, so, taking my bag, and telling Sister
to bring hers, I bundled up the gangway, which they were on the point of
removing, and asked to see the C.O., telling them that I did not mind a
bit if there was no cabin, but that we could travel on deck! Just then
the embarkation officer came bustling along, and said that he had
thought we could not get down in time, but that it was all right, and
they had got to make room for us! So some soldiers soon carried our
baggage on board, and as our last box came on the embarkation officer
went off, and we were away.
The cabins were really all full, but, after some delay, two poor young
officers had to double in with some others and give us their cabin.
The _Victorian_ is rather a grubby boat--a cattle-boat when she is at
home. There are two hundred Boer prisoners on board, going up to a place
near Ladysmith; four of them are officers, who are berthed on the upper
deck, but don't mess with us. They seem quite a superior sort (one of
them was a Commandant), and they are very polite to us, always ready to
move our chairs, or to do anything to help us.
There are about twenty officers in the saloon, and one officer's wife.
The ship is not accustomed to having any ladies on board, but every one
is very good to us, and the stewards are most attentive (there is no
stewardess).
I sit next to the C.O., a Colonel from Australia, who had had a bad fall
from his horse, and is going back to Australia for the voyage to recruit
(this boat is going to take time-expired men from Durban to Australia,
and will return with a full load of men and horses from there); he and
his son have both been fighting out here.
Just lately he has been a patient in the hospital where we have been
lodging, and he speaks very plainly about the bad management there,
after he had been very well nursed in another hospital up-country.
There is a very pleasant, and very Irish, R.A.M.C. Major in medical
charge. He has had a rough time trekking about with his regiment for the
last fifteen months, and is now going for the trip to Australia to
recruit after fever; he wants us to go with him, as they will probably
send a couple of sisters, and we already have the promise of "a good
time" in Australia while the ship is there; Sister says she would like
to go, but I would like to see this show through first.
The officer's wife has been in her cabin sea-sick all the way, so we
have had to look after her a bit. It has been a little rough, but even
Sister ---- has kept well--we conclude because we had been doing a
compulsory fast in consequence of the bad feeding at Wynberg before we
came on board! We should have thought the feeding on this boat very poor
after the _Canada_, but it is first rate after Wynberg.
We shall soon be at Durban now, and then they say we may have to be
quarantined outside for ten days (on account of the plague at the Cape),
but we hope our services may be so urgently required at the front that
they may forget to quarantine us!
XLII
GENERAL HOSPITAL, NATAL,
_March 1901_.
We arrived at Durban on February 23rd, and were eventually allowed to
land without being quarantined.
It was Saturday afternoon, and no orders came on board for us, and by
the time the Boer prisoners were landed, and we were able to get our
baggage ashore, the Durban P.M.O. had left his office; so we felt free
to do as we pleased till the following day, when (though Sunday) we
_might_ be able to report ourselves.
If we had been new sisters arriving it might have been awkward, but it
suited us down to the ground.
Sister ---- just caught the evening train up to Pinetown to stay with
some friends, and I promised to wire to her if we were needed on Sunday;
otherwise she would return on Monday.
Then a kind sergeant-major helped me to get our baggage on to a trolley
and take it up to the medical store, where it would be quite safe; and
after that I went up to see some friends on the Berea, and they most
kindly took me in.
From them I learnt many things; amongst others, that our old hospital
had been turned into a Rest Camp of 300 beds, and that they thought we
were to have the chance of going back there, but, for various reasons,
they strongly advised us not to do so if we could avoid it; that our
late medical officers had already been sent farther up-country (we had
hoped to work for them again, but did not succeed in doing so).
On Sunday morning I went to report "ourselves" to Major ----, and he was
very pleasant and kind, wanted to hear all about our voyage home, &c.,
and asked me where we wanted to go? So I told him "as near up to the
front as we could get"; then he told me that the order from the Natal
P.M.O. was for us to return to Pinetown, but if I liked he would wire to
him to ask him to let us go up-country, and that we could stay with our
friends till he got a reply.
I had a quiet Sunday in Durban, meeting many friends, and going to
church in the evening.
The next morning I met Sister at the station, and the first thing she
said to me (before I could tell her the orders) was, "Sister, I _won't_
go to Pinetown, I would rather resign, if they want to send us there."
So then I told her that our fate was waiting on a wire from the P.M.O.;
and as we walked along to the office she told me a good deal of what she
had heard about Pinetown--of course we can scarcely judge how much of it
is really true, but at any rate it appears that some of the sisters now
there seem to think that they have come out to South Africa only to
enjoy themselves, and that they are setting about it in a way which no
lady would care to emulate.
It was rather strange that we should both have received the same advice
from quite different sources: "Don't go there."
Together we went to the office, and stayed there some time, but no wire
had come; they thought we should probably go _somewhere_ by the 6 P.M.
mail train. We were advised to take some food if we went up, as meals on
the way were uncertain. So I stocked my tea-basket, and bought some
potted meat, &c., in case we went.
All day we had to hover near the office or within sound of the
telephone, and at 5 P.M. a wire came for us to go up to No. -- General
Hospital by the mail train.
One of the medical officers kindly helped us to get our baggage to the
station, and secured a carriage for us.
It is always a shaky journey up from Durban, but we got some sleep, and
the next morning, when we were having breakfast at Glencoe, we were
delighted to meet Major ----, of the Royal Engineers, an old patient of
ours, who has done splendid work up this side; he was going down to
Ladysmith.
A little farther on we met two officers who had come out in the _Canada_
with us, so they came into our carriage, and shared our lunch, and we
brewed some tea with my tea-basket. At Newcastle General Hilliard was on
the platform, and also a sister whom we knew.
We had no sooner reached our destination than Sergeant C. came up to
welcome us--he had been at Pinetown--and also went home with us; he does
not seem at all pleased at being sent here, and is already trying to get
a change.
This hospital has been a "Stationary Hospital" up to now, but is just
being turned into a "General Hospital," so they say it is in rather a
muddle at present.
Sister ---- and I were allotted a tent with just bed and
blankets--nothing else; we were not required on duty that day, so we
went down to the coolie store and invested in some cheap sheets, a
bucket, basin, &c.; also table fittings, as they told us no plates,
cups, knives, or anything were provided. Many people out here prefer to
sleep in blankets, but as the army blankets are dark brown, rather of
the texture of horsecloths, and as these were obviously not new (and the
washing and disinfecting of army blankets in a satisfactory way is still
an unsolved problem out here), we preferred to put some sheets in
between!
The air is lovely and fresh up here, where we are 5000 feet above the
sea-level--always hot sun in the day, but very cold nights.
A most unfortunate thing occurred the first night we were here: a
sister, who came out in the _Canada_ with us, had two large cases of
feather cushions given her by the Princess of Wales--whom we must now
learn to call Queen Alexandra--with the request that they should go to
men in hospital near up to the front. She had promised me that if I went
up-country I should have one of the boxes to distribute.
When we arrived here I found a wire from her saying that she was passing
our station about 8.30 P.M., and would I meet her? She was one of the
sisters who had landed at Cape Town, but was now coming down to a
hospital on this side. So, when we had got our tent straight, we went to
the Lady Superintendent and said that if we were really not wanted on
duty, might we go down to the station after dinner to meet this sister?
She said certainly we might; she was sorry she had some letters to
write, or she would have walked down with us.
When we got to the station we found we were rather too soon, and there
were a lot of orderlies standing about, and a few officers (whom, of
course, we did not know), so I said to Sister, "I vote we walk about
outside till we hear the train coming"; and we were just beating a
retreat from the platform when an officer stalked up and said, in a very
rude way, "Who are you?" We just gave our names, and were walking away,
when he again stopped us, and asked what we wanted at the station? By
this time Sister ---- was bubbling over with wrath, but we had to
explain that we had obtained leave to meet a sister. I believe if I had
said that I was expecting a box of things from the Queen, he would have
knuckled under, but I was not going to trade on that; and the long and
short of it was that he did not believe that we had been given leave,
and said we were not allowed in the station and were to return to camp.
Of course we went back furious at his rudeness, and then discovered he
was the C.O. here! I expect the Lady Superintendent had forgotten to
tell him we had leave (or something of that kind), but he might have
believed our word, and not been so rude to us before a lot of orderlies,
and she was very much annoyed with him.
The next morning, when we were formally introduced to him, he was, I
think, penitent, and invited us to go out for a picnic on the following
day, when some people whom we knew were coming here, partly to inspect
the hospital and partly for this excursion. Sister ---- went with them,
but I was going on night duty that night, so I begged off.
This is a "Ration Station" (as it would be difficult to buy food
privately so far from the base), therefore we don't get quite so many
"allowances," but the "skoff" seems very fairly good; they bake bread in
the camp; and as long as you can get decent bread you can be content.
We are just on the border of the Transvaal, and there are plenty of
Boers about; two or three of our columns are trekking about in the
district, and they say that we often have sick and wounded sent in from
them.
Most of the sisters here seem to ride, but I can't take to that again
yet. The night sisters had a little excitement two nights ago, when two
horses galloped into the camp, and they--with the help of a convalescent
officer--caught and tethered them. They hoped they would be allowed to
keep them, but, unfortunately, they were reclaimed by some Yeomanry men;
but they say that very often droves of horses pass here, and sometimes a
few escape, or are left behind too sick (or too tired) to go on; and
then the orderlies catch them and sell them to the sisters for £1 or £2!
I think there are about 500 beds here, nearly all under canvas. There
are a few buildings of wood, and amongst them is a small room that the
sisters use as a duty room, and the night sisters (two of them) sit
there, and they have a small stove for boiling water, &c. There is no
arrangement for hot water near the tents for the patients--we used to
have (and I have seen them in other hospitals too) boilers on wheels
with a coolie to keep the fire going, and if the water was not always
hot, the coolie soon heard about it from the orderlies.
One day the C.O. asked me whether I had everything I wanted, and I said,
"No, I wanted a good many things for the men, one being hot water"; but
he said he had never heard of these movable boilers, and seemed to think
them an unnecessary luxury.
At the sisters' camp we have a comfortable room that they use as a
sitting-room, with a mixed lot of furniture that has been "commandeered"
from houses in the district. The other day an officer sent us a lot of
china plates taken from a Boer hotel; they were very welcome, as we were
most of us using enamel plates out of our tea-baskets, &c. We have our
meals in a tent--just a long table, and benches without backs.
Our sleeping tents are chiefly the big square kind, called E. P. tents;
they are supposed to hold four beds, so we may have to pack tight, but
at present Sister and I are alone. Some of the sisters have made their
tents very nice, and have rigged up curtains to divide them. At present
we use our boxes as washstand, &c., and as a General Hospital is given a
certain amount of furniture for the sisters, we intend not to buy
anything that is not really necessary until we see what they are going
to give us.
XLIII
GENERAL HOSPITAL, NATAL,
_March 1901_.
Now I have waded (both literally and figuratively) through my first
spell of a fortnight on night duty, and it has not been pleasant; but
when one thinks how much worse it must be for the troops out trekking,
one does not mind.
I have always thought that South Africa _without the sun_ was rather a
poor sort of a place, and, living in a tent in the wet season, I am
confirmed in that opinion.
It began to rain the first night I went on duty, and during the
fortnight I had only four fine nights: the other nights it
rained--generally in bucketfuls.
The first day when I went to bed it was very hot and stuffy in the tent,
so I did not sleep for some time, but was sleeping in the afternoon when
the rain began, and soon it woke me up by splashing on my face; then I
found it was coming down in torrents, and our tent had been so badly
pitched, with no trench round it, that there was a deep stream flowing
through. I had to paddle about and rescue all our goods from the floor,
pitching most of them on to Sister's bed; and she was rather amused when
she came over to call me, to find me fast asleep under a mackintosh and
umbrella, my bed a simple island, and no room for her to get into her
own bed!
Most of the sisters were prepared for this, and had suitable garments,
but it was several days before I could obtain them, so I very soon had
not a dry garment to my name.
Before I leave the subject I may as well tell you what is the correct
garb, and then you can imagine us sitting on a bench at our mess--and I
am sure no one seeing us would think we were sisters; with our lanterns
hung up behind us, we look more like miners, or something of that sort!
The first essential is a pair of knee "gum" boots, as the grass between
the tents is long; then you must have knickerbockers, with a very short
serge skirt (some omit the skirt altogether on night duty!), then a
mackintosh. When it does not rain, you substitute for the mackintosh a
"British Warmer" coat--that is the short khaki overcoat that both
officers and privates wear, a very rough wool with a warm flannel
lining. For headgear we have a sailor hat, or a wool cap, or a
sou'wester, according to taste. White caps and aprons are quite
impossible when you have to go from tent to tent.
Of course there is no chance of drying anything till the sun comes out
again, and when we get out of bed it would never do to turn it down;
instead of that you put anything you wish to _try_ to keep dry inside,
and cover it all up with every rug and blanket and mackintosh that you
can lay hands on.
Our tent was so hopelessly bad, that after some days they let us move
into another, and that one having a wooden floor, we were better off.
I was so tired after moving our things into the new tent, and after a
heavy night on duty in the pouring rain, that I slept like a top, and
when I woke in the evening I found everything upset in the tent, and
evident marks that a cow had been taking shelter with me!
The sisters gibed at me, and said I should probably not have waked up if
it had been a Boer commando.
There are a lot of men very ill. I was supposed to have charge on night
duty of the medical side (about 250 beds), and that included the enteric
tents with about 100 beds. They seem to have a mania for shifting the
men about, so it was often difficult to find the bad cases; there were
generally only night orderlies in the enteric tents, so that men who
needed much attention in the night were supposed to be sent to the
enteric line, whether they had enteric or not. To escape this risk of
infection for them, we sisters used to try to do all for them in their
own tents as long as we possibly could, and the poor chaps were so
grateful to us, and the day sisters (who were equally keen not to have
them sent down) used to tell us that the men always assured the medical
officers that they had everything they wanted in the night. You know how
at home if a sick man wakes up, and is alone for a few minutes, he
thinks he is being neglected, but these poor chaps must have many lonely
hours in the dark tents, and yet they never complain; they know that so
many are dying of enteric, and they seem to have a horror of being sent
down to that line.
It really was pretty horrid paddling about in the dark and the long
grass between the tents; and it was so slippery with mud and rain that
twice I fell down, and it took some time before I could find my lantern
and the kettle which I had just boiled up, and was carrying down to make
a poultice for a poor chap with pneumonia: it was very annoying, as, of
course, it took time to reboil the kettle. The day sister leaves
everything ready, with the linseed in a bowl, so that I have only to
pour the water on, and then I put everything all ready for the next one;
in this way we can get fairly hot poultices, though the tents are a long
way from the fire.
The men used to be so sorry for us being so constantly wet; and many a
convalescent man used to beg me to let him stay awake with a man who was
very ill and give him his drinks, &c., promising to come and fetch me if
he wanted anything, so that I need not go round so often,--but, of
course, I could not let him do that.
One man (a New Zealander) said to me, "Well, Sister, I have often
grumbled at having to do sentry-go for two or three hours on a wet
night, but I never knew that any woman had to do it for twelve hours at
a stretch; I shan't grumble at my share again in a hurry."
The other day we had in a big convoy of eighty sick and wounded from
General French's column. They had been eight days in ox waggons coming
seventy-two miles; poor chaps, they were glad to get into beds.
Two days from here they had got stuck in a drift one night, and the
Boers came down and fired on them, killing a corporal and a private of
the guard and wounding two others. One man had been shot in the thigh,
and Sister made him comfortable in bed, and the doctor said they should
not do anything till next day; the man slept like a top for over twelve
hours, and when he woke in the morning Sister said something to him
about having been comfortable, and he said, "Yes, Sister, I was not
going to miss five minutes' enjoyment of that bed, for I have not been
on a bed for fifteen months."
This convoy also brought in a lot of Boer women and children, but they
have gone into a camp about three miles from here.
If you, or any of your friends, care to post me any illustrated papers
or magazines, they would be most gratefully received, or in fact
anything wherewith to amuse the men. We should be very glad, too, of
warm garments, as the winter is coming on, and the Red Cross people have
stopped sending the splendid big bundles of papers that our men used to
appreciate so much; in fact, most people seem to have tired of sending
the things with which we were so well supplied at first. The poor
Tommies feel a little hurt at no free supplies of tobacco or cigarettes,
and I would give anything to have my old supply of warm shirts,
sweaters, wool caps, &c., for the men who have to go back to roughing it
on trek.
Now that the rain has stopped, we are having perfectly lovely days, but
the nights are very cold; they say that a little later on it is bitterly
cold up here.
There were six deaths during my first fortnight on night duty, and it
was awfully sad, as one felt they had so little chance, and I cannot
really see why they should not be better "done by"; but the sisters seem
to think that it is the natural order of things, and that we must just
"do our best and leave the rest."
The General was here the other day, and said that all the men were to
have tumblers instead of mugs, but I suppose he does not know that they
have not each got a mug yet!
There is one enteric tent (the last one opened) of fourteen beds, and
their equipment includes only four mugs, and not a single feeding-cup
at all. One night I found a man, who had not got enteric, sent there for
the sake of having night orderlies, as he was very ill; so I had to
borrow a mug for him from another line, and the next day I bought him
the necessary fittings at the coolie store; but it won't do much good,
as the orderlies probably won't take proper precautions to wash up for
him separately.
There are some new R.A.M.C. officers here now, and one of them seems
energetic; I don't know what had gone wrong that he was poking into, but
one of the sisters heard him say to a sergeant, "Hospital scandals are
not in it," so we can only hope things will improve here.
There was much excitement here one night. A major arrived, sick, in a
mule buggy from a column near here; the C.O. saw him, and told him what
tent to go to, but he never arrived. After much searching of the camp,
neither the officer nor his mules could be found; then the heliograph
was set to work, and eventually he was located at the next station, and
when he was brought back he said the C.O. was so rude to him that he
thought he would not stay, and had gone to a hotel!
Since I came off night duty I, and two other sisters, have been doing
only "afternoon duty," which means looking after the camp while all the
other sisters are off duty; this is because there are more sisters here
than the proper number: if there were only the right number, two of the
sisters who have lines would stay on every afternoon in turn; but the
stupid thing about it is that if we were each turned on to a big tent of
enterics (instead of one sister having all the line on her hands) we
might be doing really useful nursing; as it is, there is not much to do
in the afternoon, beyond prowling round and trying to talk to the men
and cheer them up a bit.
The other day one of them presented me with these lines of his own
composition; he was in a tent when I was on night duty where there was a
very bad case:
(_By an Australian Trooper._)
You may talk of our Soldiers and Sailors,
Of our brave Colonials too,
But nothing is thought of our Nurses,
With hearts so tender and true.
They have suffered great hardships, and endured
The trials that fell to their share,
And so caused their names to be cherished
On every Barrack Room Square.
So give three cheers for our Sisters
Who've shown us what they will do
To help the cause of Old England
By nursing our sick soldiers through.
XLIV
GENERAL HOSPITAL, NATAL,
_April 1901_.