The missing eighty thousand

After more than a century, the phrase 'Lies, damned lies and statistics' still rings true on many occasions today. I frequently browse search engines to see if I can find anything about military nurses that's new to the web and of interest to me, and have known for some time that there's a fundamental error on a prominent nursing website, quoting 100,000 thousand for the number of nurses who served with Queen Alexandra's Imperial Military Nursing Service and the Reserve during the Great War. However, a recent search shows that this error has now been replicated on numerous other sites - those which blindly copy what they find elsewhere without any effort to verify that the information is accurate, although they probably wouldn't have the first idea where to start in getting it right.
So I would like to shout out that there were never 100,000 members of QAIMNS and Reserve during the Great War, or in WW2, or for both of them added together for that matter. The National Archives holds service records for 9,349 members of QAIMNS/Reserve who served during the Great War, and another 6,640 for members of the Territorial Force Nursing Service. This run of files is not complete, as they were weeded during the 1930s and a percentage removed if the women were not able to serve again due to a variety of reasons, or if they went on to serve during the Second World War, in which case their files will still be held by the Ministry of Defence. The full number is unknown, but it's estimated that probably 20-30% more women actually served with the British military nursing services during the First World War than the run of files suggests.
Even a generous estimate pushes that number up to perhaps 13,000 members of QAIMNS/Reserve and 9,000 members of the TFNS, giving a total of about 22,000 women who served. So if you ever read that 100,000 nurses were members of QAIMNS during the war, please ignore it, and if you're really bold, drop a line to the webmaster pointing out the error.

Edith Appleton re-visited

Some time ago I wrote about Sister Edith Appleton, who kept a diary throughout her time in France as a member of Queen Alexandra's Imperial Military Nursing Service, and which is now online:

Edith Appleton's diary

Wisely, in the face of such an interesting, compassionate and humorous work, BBC radio have decided to broadcast some extracts from the diary on three days during Remembrance week. The online diary is a family collaboration, and Dick Robinson, collaborator-in-chief, travelled down to Brighton for the recording of the programme, and an account of the day, and details of the programme are on his website here:

Edie makes it on to the radio

Very well done to all concerned - certainly something to look forward to.

The Diary of a Zepp. Night

This account, written by a VAD, is taken from the Gazette of the 3rd London General Hospital (TF) Wandsworth, and published in the June 1916 edition. The Gazette was probably the best of all hospital magazines, due mainly to the foresight of the Commanding Officer, Colonel Bruce Porter, in employing a group of men who were all members of the Chelsea Arts Club and too old, or unfit for normal military service. In addition to their work as orderlies at the hospital, they wrote, illustrated and published a monthly magazine which resulted in one of the finest insights into life in a large military hospital during the Great War.


THE DIARY OF A ZEPP. NIGHT
9.15 - Night Sister blows in rather hurriedly. "All lights out, and just run round to the other wards." Start off on my travels, beginning by badly barking my shins on radiator. Make a frantic dive for the door and land with a resounding crash into a screen. Start once more, and eventually arrive - falling over every possible object en route. Dash upstairs and drop metal matchbox down well of staircase with a noise like several bombs. Await result in palpitating silence. Nothing happens, so "carry on."
9.45 - Suffering from shock and ready for anything. See figure silhouetted against window. Ask what it's doing out of bed, and find it's the statue that adorns the ward. Retire crushed.
10pm - Frenzied search for respirators and solution by matchlight. Wake most of the patients with the striking and singe hair and eyebrows, but success attends my efforts. All is prepared. Do your worst, O Hun!
10.15 - Obtain electric torch, and, shrouding it in kit handkerchiefs, go forth in search of adventure and, incidentally, of Night Sister. Am asked by a gentleman if I can direct him to L ward. Offer him the services of my glow-worm, and put him on the broad road that leadeth to L. The same old tale again, I suppose: cherchez la femme.
10.30 - Fire in side ward insists on blazing. Damp its ardour, but it bursts forth afresh every few minutes. On ordinary occasions to look at it is to put it out. Tonight it needs a pint of water or so every half-hour (more or less) illustrating the cussedness of things as they are.
11pm - Toast feet on radiator and search the heavens for the foe. Nothing doing.
11.30 - Still nothing doing.
12 midnight - Suspense is wearying. Decide to have supper. Cook something - bacon - by the smell thereof - make coffee, and pour three parts down the sink in the endeavour to strain it. Eat and drink in solid darkness; but all is tasteless, dust and ashes as it were. Queer what a difference sight makes to flavour.
12.15 - A tiny light comes down the ward, swaying and dancing through the blackness. Is it a fallen star or a Will o' the Wisp on his nightly travels? 'S neither, but our "Lady of the Lamp" on her midnight round. And the news she brings: "Raid in the ___ district, nothing definite." Cheering. Will they blow usup en masse or a ward at a time? Take a gloomy survey of my past, and speculate on the chances of arriving 'there' whole or in portions.
12.45 - Patrol the ward, pitying the unsuspecting patients slumbering regardless of peril!
1.30 - A not very lucid interval.
3.15 - Another visit from the Lady of the Lamp. No tidings either way. Why, oh why, did I leave my happy home and come on night duty?
4am - Dawn begins to lighten our darkness and the order "Lights out" coincides with the running of the first train to be released. It dashes through with a whoop of triumph and defiance, and I pull myself together and decide that it's not such a bad life after all.

Not All Angels

Why do I get increasingly irritated by hearing women who nursed during the Great War described as 'angels'? I realise that it's been used for decades as a catch-all compliment, but surely there are far better ways of describing this group of women.

Angel - a divine or semi-divine being; a spiritual helper for humankind; a personification of the concept of holiness; a person whose actions and thoughts are consistently virtuous.

But angels don't actually exist, do they? Perhaps that depends on an individual's religous beliefs, but to me, no, they are definitely 'pretend.' But nothing 'pretend' about the women who served as nurses during the Great War. I've done a fair bit of research and looked at the life and work of hundreds of individual women who worked as military nurses and VADs, and can come up with many more suitable ways of describing them than by use of the word 'angel.'
They were hard-working, professional, responsible, strong, fit, frail, delicate, robust, nervous, lazy, sympathetic, workaholic, caring, gentle, indifferent, kindly, polite, thoughtful, hard, highly-trained, compassionate, tactless, altruistic, uncaring, intelligent, artistic, literate, rude, middle-class, working-class, loyal, trustworthy, untrustworthy, popular, unpopular, selfless, selfish, honourable .... a group of normal women.

And definitely not all angels!

Funeral of a VAD

This poignant account of the funeral of a VAD in Rouen comes from 'A VAD in France' by Olive Dent. Its descriptive qualities add a sense of being there, and bring understanding of a ceremony not often available to an 'outsider.' The book does not necessarily run in chronological order, and it's therefore difficult to be sure of the identity of the woman; I first thought that it was likely to be Jeannie (Jessie) Smith Lee, who was working at No.9 General Hospital, Rouen, and died on the 30th March, 1917, but it could also refer to Mary Dickson of No.9 General Hospital who died on the 16th February 1917:

A V.A.D. Funeral

As many as possible of the nursing staff were asked to attend the funeral this afternoon of a V.A.D. When we arrived at the cemetery it was just in time to join the cortege.
A cordon of R.A.M.C. lined the road, and down it passed the padre followed by the pipers wailing a dirge. Next came the coffin, a plain, unstained wooden one covered with the Union Jack. Then came the A.D.M.S., and some other staff officers, and then we nurses - Q.A.I.M.N.S., Territorial, Reserve, St.J.A.A. and B.R.C.
We grouped ourselves round the grave, and the padre read the address exquisitely and most impressively. It was a beautiful spring afternoon with a fleckless blue sky and floods of soft sunshine. A bird on a bough swayed up and down, up and down, with a continual cheep-cheep, cheep-cheep. We all stood taut and still, at attention, and the words rolled magnificently to us:
"Lord most holy, O God most mighty, O holy and merciful Saviour, thou most worthy Judge eternal, suffer us not, at our last hour, for any pains of death, to fall from Thee."

The Union Jack is folded and laid aside, the pageantry and the impressive dignity of the scene loses its grip on one. Instead there comes to mind a picture of the dead girl, white and still, with closed eyes and crossed hands. We hear the rattle of ropes, the coffin is lowered, the swaying bird becomes a blurred vision. A French peasant woman with a tiny bunch of half-faded violets is sobbing loudly. The grave faces of the English nurses become a little more set.
Then come the prayers, the Last Post - poingnant and haunting - and the volley. Two French nurses drop into the grace a bunch of carnations, we take our flowers and lay them by the grave and turn to go back through the cemetery. No matter what consolation is proffered, death is always an irreparable loss. But surely better to have it come when doing work that counts, work of national and racial weight, than to live on until old and unwanted.
And what a magnificent end to one's life, to lie there among those splendidly brave boys in the little strip of land which the French Government has given over in perpetuity to our dead. Thousands of children that are to be, will come to such cemeteries, and will be hushed to reverence by the spirits of those who are not, by the spirits of the fallen that will forever inhabit the scene.
May eternal rest be given to the poor shattered body and glory eternal to the ever lasting spirit!

A V.A.D. In France, Olive Dent: published by Grant Richards Ltd., London 1917

Territorial Force Nursing Service - a summing-up

I've recently added to my Scarletfinders website an account of the wartime work of the Territorial Force Nursing Service, taken from a report given by Dame Maud McCarthy in December 1920, and published in the British Journal of Nursing. In addition to that account, a less formal version was published in 'The Hospital' the following week, which is given below. In 1920 Maud McCarthy moved from her position as Matron-in-Chief of Queen Alexandra's Imperial Military Nursing Service after a five year tenure of office, to the same position within the Territorial Force Nursing Service.

*****

THE TERRITORIAL FORCE NURSING SERVICE
From 'The Hospital' 18 December 1920, page 269

The veil of secrecy which hid the operations of the nursing sisters during the war has not yet been lifted. Lightning glimpses have come through from time to time, chiefly in the telling little narratives recounting deeds which have earned distinctions. But nothing approaching a detailed history of "Nursing in the Great War" has yet been attempted. Hence we hail with particular pleasure the all too brief report furnished by Dame Maud McCarthy, G.B.E., of her own nursing service handed in last week at a meeting of the Territorial Force Nursing Service Committee, City and County of London.
Dame Maud writes with restraint, but her pride in the service of which she is Matron-in-Chief is not entirely banished by official reserve. It was a noble band of women, ably officered, admirably chosen, rising to heights of skill and endurance unguessed at by any at the outset of war. We can remember a time when much criticism was levelled against the preliminary organisation of the Territorial Force Nursing Service. The principle of selection in advance from the major training-schools of the kingdom, on the matron's recommendation, was strongly objected to in certain quarters. How splendidly it was vindicated by the event has become manifest.

The main body of Territorial Nurses ready for service in 1914 amounted to a total of 2,738, of which the number 2,116 nurses were required for 23 general hospitals and 667 to replace casualties. This was the backbone of the Service. As years went on, the principal matrons charged with this duty enrolled 5,357 more members. The total figures are 8,140, but the actual number who served was 7,117, for always they had a large body ready to join up as required. Out of the 24 regularly organised hospitals of the Territorial Force, 10 were sent to France, 1 to Malta, 1 to Egypt, 1 to Mesopotamia, and one to East Africa. All these as well as the Home Territorial Hospitals were served by the Territorial nurses, and in addition the Service sent large reinforcements to the regular Army Nursing Service, and these were posted to casualty clearing stations, ambulance trains, and barges and hospital ships.

The total of deaths was 48, of whom 6 were killed by enemy action; the rest, including 9 who died abroad, succumbed to illness. This low death-rate for a period extending over some five years reflects the highest credit to the organising ability of the heads of the Service. It is no higher in reality than what might be expected in a normal period out of an equal number of women engaged in ordinary occupations. When the prodigious toils of the war period be considered, the difficulties of transport, the improvised nurses' quarters, the many privations and dangers of war, nothing surprises us more than to learn how few nursing sisters died in the course of their duties. Yet perhaps it is after all more surprising still to learn that only 7 out of 7,000 were dismissed as "unsuitable." The art of selection has indeed been brought to a high pitch, and the art of training also, when but one in a thousand enrolled when increasing security of nurses at home restricted choice, should have proved a failure.

Dame Maud herself is filled with an admiration at the fine qualities which manifested themselves in those under her command. They preserved under all circumstances and difficulties a very high standard of nursing. This was expected of them, and the honour of the schools was safe in their hands. But they proved equal to many quite unaccustomed tasks. They were employed in surgical teams, had charge of wards where new forms of treatment were being carried out, took over small units and field ambulances in the very forward areas, managed a hospital for the Portuguese, where they gave a fine object lesson to some astonished gentlemen in the things British women could carry through; and, in fact, distinguished themselves under the most varied and bewildering experiences.

It is not merely their ability which stirs the imagination, it is their qualities of heart, their unstinted devotion to their patients and to the sorrowing relatives which move the emotions. When we thank God for victory, and not a day should pass without thanksgiving, let us thank Him for the quality of British nurses.

Camp Kit

The following list of equipment for nurses proceeding overseas is taken from the Standing Orders for the Territorial Force Nursing Service, but also applied to members of QAIMNS and the QAIMNS Reserve:

CAMP KIT FOR THOSE PROCEEDING ON ACTIVE SERVICE
The following articles are to be provided by all members when proceeding on active service abroad. Uniform only is to be taken; no plain clothes are required. An Allowance of £8. 5s. for active service equipment, and £7. 10s. for camp kit will be given to each member.

1 Trunk not to exceed 30x24x12 inches
1 Hold-all
1 Cushion with washing covers
1 Rug
1 Pair of gum boots
1 Small candle lantern
1 Small oil stove and kettle
1 Flat iron
1 Looking glass
1 Roll-up, containing knife, fork, dessert-spoon and teaspoon
1 Cup and saucer
1 Tea pot or infuser
1 Securem tent strap
2 pairs scissors
2 pairs forceps
2 clinical thermometers

CAMP KIT
1 Portable camp bedstead
1 Bag for ditto
1 Pillow
1 Waterproof sheet, 7ft x 4ft. 6ins.
1 Tripod washstand with proofed basin, bag and bath
1 Folding chair
1 Waterproof bucket [canvas]
1 Valise or kit bag with owner's name painted upon it