Prior to the outbreak of war, members of Queen Alexandra's Imperial Military Nursing Service were considered an elite among nurses, both by themselves and others. As the numbers of nurses grew during the war, there were many members of QAIMNS Reserve and the Territorial Force Nursing Service who might not have been considered for QAIMNS pre-war, on account of some perceived deficiency in their background, education or training. But as the war progressed it became evident that some of those elite 'regulars' were not able to cope with the stress and strains of war, while some of the 'others' became admirably efficient in difficult circumstances. An entry in the war diary of the Matron-in-Chief in France and Flanders mentioned the name of one TFNS Sister as being particularly capable, and in her file at The National Archives I found one of the most glowing testimonials I'd ever seen for any nurse with wartime service. These references are usually rather measured - no going overboard with the praise - but this one certainly belonged to an exceptional woman.
'This is to certify that MISS JESSIE MAUD CARDOZO, R.R.C., has served in the TERRITORIAL FORCE NURSING SERVICE from August 17th, 1914 to May 11th, 1919, when she was demobilised.
Miss Cardozo served in France from January 1916 to January 1919. She possesses a conspicuous professional ability and administrative capacity. She is a most excellent Sister, and an experienced assistant at operations. She is good-tempered, tactful, and most reliable and punctual. She has excellent judgement and her influence is generally of a high order. Miss Cardozo is a competent Theatre Sister and was in charge of a Casualty Clearing Station in France during a time of great stress. She proved of the greatest assistance, being cool and collected at all times. She has marked powers of initiative and is a lady with a keen sense of loyalty. Miss Cardozo was mentioned in Despatches by Sir Douglas Haig in November, 1917, and in July 1919, and was awarded the Royal Red Cross, 1st Class, in June, 1918, for valuable work. She has rendered excellent service for almost five years.'
Sidney Browne, Matron-in-Chief, T.F.N.S., March 12th, 1920
Jessie Maud Cardozo, was born 1882 in Stratford, Essex, and trained as a nurse at King's College Hospital, London between 1905 and 1908. She died in 1965 in Eastbourne, Sussex, aged 83 years.
Friday, 29 January 2010
Sunday, 24 January 2010
Demobilization - the replies
The War Office were not slow in responding to the letter of 19th March 1919 from 'Members of Q.A.I.M.N.S.' and this reply appeared the following day:
War Office Explanation
In reference to the letter from members of Queen Alexandra's Imperial Military Nursing Service (Reserve) which appeared in The Times of yesterday, complaining of the summary dismissal of nurses, a representative of The Times made inquiries at the War Office. It was stated there that urgent demands for the demobilization of nurses and doctors have been made in the Press and in Parliament, in consequence of the prevalence of the influenza epidemic. In view of these demands the demobilization of nurses has been proceeding as rapidly as possible. They have been given, it is true, only 48 hours' notice; but it is pointed out that on demobilization they are entitled to a gratuity. Their contract binds them to serve for as long as they may be required, and on signing they drew an extra £20. During their service they are treated on the footing of officers. They serve for gratuity as do officers, their gratuity being a certain amount for each year of service, and varying according to rank. Roughly, the lump sum to which a nurse is entitled on demobilization is about £40. It is understood, however, that a revision of the gratuity with a view to increasing the scale is now before the Financial Secretary. This gratuity is substituted for one month's wages and allowances, and on assessment is forwarded to the demobilized nurse.
The letter also alleges that the extra £20 added to the wages in September 1916 had to be refunded; but it is stated in reply that no nurse demobilized by the War Office was called upon to refund any sum. A further complaint is raised as to holidays. The Q.A.I.M.N.S. nurses were given leave in accordance with the Pay Warrant, this being 14 days for each six months' service, but in view of the extraordinary urgency for nurses in other than military hospitals, especially having regard to the influenza epidemic, no nurse was allowed leave just before demobilization. In other words, if the circumstances had been normal the holidays would have been normal. Comparatively few complaints have been made to Headquarters about the procedure that has been adopted in connexion with the demobilization of the nurses.
War Office Explanation
In reference to the letter from members of Queen Alexandra's Imperial Military Nursing Service (Reserve) which appeared in The Times of yesterday, complaining of the summary dismissal of nurses, a representative of The Times made inquiries at the War Office. It was stated there that urgent demands for the demobilization of nurses and doctors have been made in the Press and in Parliament, in consequence of the prevalence of the influenza epidemic. In view of these demands the demobilization of nurses has been proceeding as rapidly as possible. They have been given, it is true, only 48 hours' notice; but it is pointed out that on demobilization they are entitled to a gratuity. Their contract binds them to serve for as long as they may be required, and on signing they drew an extra £20. During their service they are treated on the footing of officers. They serve for gratuity as do officers, their gratuity being a certain amount for each year of service, and varying according to rank. Roughly, the lump sum to which a nurse is entitled on demobilization is about £40. It is understood, however, that a revision of the gratuity with a view to increasing the scale is now before the Financial Secretary. This gratuity is substituted for one month's wages and allowances, and on assessment is forwarded to the demobilized nurse.
The letter also alleges that the extra £20 added to the wages in September 1916 had to be refunded; but it is stated in reply that no nurse demobilized by the War Office was called upon to refund any sum. A further complaint is raised as to holidays. The Q.A.I.M.N.S. nurses were given leave in accordance with the Pay Warrant, this being 14 days for each six months' service, but in view of the extraordinary urgency for nurses in other than military hospitals, especially having regard to the influenza epidemic, no nurse was allowed leave just before demobilization. In other words, if the circumstances had been normal the holidays would have been normal. Comparatively few complaints have been made to Headquarters about the procedure that has been adopted in connexion with the demobilization of the nurses.
And on April 2nd this letter appeared from a former member of the Reserve, Mary Hine, seemingly satisfied with her lot:
Sir, - May I be allowed to comment on the letter re the 'scandalous' treatment of Army nurses which appeared in The Times of yesterday? I have been a member of the Territorial Force Nursing Service since 1914, and although I am well aware that the Army is competent to speak for itself, I feel it is only fair to let the general public know how well I consider we have been treated, and how little cause there is for grievance. Sisters and nurses in the Army rank as officers. They are thus, according to King's Regulations, liable to be demobilized at 24 hours' notice, and are entitled to no unemployment pay. When the armistice was signed our matron warned us that we might be mobilized any day, and advised us to look for other posts at once. Some of our members procured posts and have already been released. One has only to glance down the columns of the nursing papers to see the great demand there is for nurses. Surely some post can be accepted until something really suitable is found, to keep a homeless nurse from want. But why, after being in Army employ for so long, should there be no savings to fall back on? Comparing it with civil pay the Army pay has been good. In 1916, in consideration that we agreed to remain in the Army for as long as our services were required, an additional annual £20 was added to our salary. We have also good allowances, half-fare vouchers, and upon occasion, warrants, which in these days of expensive travelling are a great help. It has also been regular employment - another help to saving. The yearly gratuity is assured, in the case of a sister £10, and in that of a nurse £7. 10s., both of which I hear may probably be increased.
Furthermore, we joined the Army not only for a livelihood, but also from a sense of loyalty to our country, as our menfolk have done. It is a privilege not granted to all to have been allowed to serve at the front. Extra field allowance has been paid. Why then grumble at the hardships endured? The Army seems to have been a home for many homeless nurses, but, devoted and self-sacrificing as they may have been, it cannot continue to be so indefinitely, and surely nurses themselves must realize this.
A rather better explanation of the situation from Miss Hine, I think, than from the War Office!
Friday, 22 January 2010
The problems of demobilization
It's easy to imagine that at the end of the war, after more than four years of hard work and often less than satisfactory living conditions, nurses would have been happy to hang up their hats and go home. But apparently not all of them felt this way. Correspondence in The Times in the spring of 1919 shows considerable dissatisfaction among them with the process of demobilization. First, a semi-anonymous letter to The Times, dated 19th March 1919 under the heading 'Nurses dismissed summarily:
'Sir, The members of Queen Alexandra's Imperial Military Nursing Service (Reserve) would like to bring before the public the unfair way in which they are being demobilized. They are being given 48 hours' notice, and after that pay and allowances cease. Many of us have served now for four years, and, never having had proper holidays, are unfit to start work again immediately. We are a body of women working for our living, and are not in a position to be dismissed at so short notice. Many have no parents or homes, and will have to go into lodgings and pay for them. Are we not entitled to some consideration in the form of one month's wages and allowances in lieu of a month's notice? The War Office expects one month's notice from any one leaving the Service and the extra £20 added to our salaries in September, 1916, had to be refunded.'
Members of Q.A.I.M.N.S.
That was followed by a further letter to The Times dated March 27th 1919 from 'Isabel Kennedy' in Brighton - presumably one of those who was happy to be associated with the letter above.
'Sir, Mr. Winston Churchill recently stated that the demobilization of Army nurses was being pushed. It is; and the public should know of the scandalous treatment meted out to the Army nurses of the Territorial Service and the Queen Alexandra's Reserves under this same rapid demobilization. These women, to whom the country owes as much as to the soldiers, are simply given 24 hours' notice, and told to leave. A nurse never knows at what moment the blow may fall. That a woman may have neither money, nor home, nor fresh work to go to, matters nothing. At the end of the 24 hours she must go. The conduct of the Army nurses has been as heroic as that of the soldiers. To whatever hell the men went, the women followed. Yet there are scores and scores of cases of nurses who have served from the outbreak of war in 1914, who have gone through the horrors of Gallipoli and Mesopotamia, who have been torpedoed and shipwrecked, who have been bombed at casualty clearing stations, who are daily (as a nurse justly put it) being "kicked out." The Army nurses are drawn from the ranks of women who have to work for a living. But the pay of the nurse is a sweated one, so that savings, even if possible, can be but small. Yet for the Army nurse there is neither leaving gratuity nor unemployment pay. Some time in the vague future each nurse may receive a war bonus of £20. But it is surely on her discharge, when she has to face the world while waiting for a post, that the nurse needs money in her pocket, and it is then that, having done her duty, she should receive her reward. These devoted women have given the best years of their womanhood to their country. They flinched at nothing. With the soldiers they have faced all the horrors and terrors of war. They have faced death in terrible form. They have deserved as well of their country as the men. It is monstrous that they should be turned off with callous ingratitude.'
Somehow I feel that this second letter could well come under the category of 'over-egging the pudding.' Some truth in it, but what a lot of heroic exaggeration. And the replies to these accusations?
Soon, I promise.
'Sir, The members of Queen Alexandra's Imperial Military Nursing Service (Reserve) would like to bring before the public the unfair way in which they are being demobilized. They are being given 48 hours' notice, and after that pay and allowances cease. Many of us have served now for four years, and, never having had proper holidays, are unfit to start work again immediately. We are a body of women working for our living, and are not in a position to be dismissed at so short notice. Many have no parents or homes, and will have to go into lodgings and pay for them. Are we not entitled to some consideration in the form of one month's wages and allowances in lieu of a month's notice? The War Office expects one month's notice from any one leaving the Service and the extra £20 added to our salaries in September, 1916, had to be refunded.'
Members of Q.A.I.M.N.S.
That was followed by a further letter to The Times dated March 27th 1919 from 'Isabel Kennedy' in Brighton - presumably one of those who was happy to be associated with the letter above.
'Sir, Mr. Winston Churchill recently stated that the demobilization of Army nurses was being pushed. It is; and the public should know of the scandalous treatment meted out to the Army nurses of the Territorial Service and the Queen Alexandra's Reserves under this same rapid demobilization. These women, to whom the country owes as much as to the soldiers, are simply given 24 hours' notice, and told to leave. A nurse never knows at what moment the blow may fall. That a woman may have neither money, nor home, nor fresh work to go to, matters nothing. At the end of the 24 hours she must go. The conduct of the Army nurses has been as heroic as that of the soldiers. To whatever hell the men went, the women followed. Yet there are scores and scores of cases of nurses who have served from the outbreak of war in 1914, who have gone through the horrors of Gallipoli and Mesopotamia, who have been torpedoed and shipwrecked, who have been bombed at casualty clearing stations, who are daily (as a nurse justly put it) being "kicked out." The Army nurses are drawn from the ranks of women who have to work for a living. But the pay of the nurse is a sweated one, so that savings, even if possible, can be but small. Yet for the Army nurse there is neither leaving gratuity nor unemployment pay. Some time in the vague future each nurse may receive a war bonus of £20. But it is surely on her discharge, when she has to face the world while waiting for a post, that the nurse needs money in her pocket, and it is then that, having done her duty, she should receive her reward. These devoted women have given the best years of their womanhood to their country. They flinched at nothing. With the soldiers they have faced all the horrors and terrors of war. They have faced death in terrible form. They have deserved as well of their country as the men. It is monstrous that they should be turned off with callous ingratitude.'
Somehow I feel that this second letter could well come under the category of 'over-egging the pudding.' Some truth in it, but what a lot of heroic exaggeration. And the replies to these accusations?
Soon, I promise.
Saturday, 26 December 2009
Lucy Liptrot
Just because somebody asked, I thought I'd mention that the rather attractive nurse currently at the top of the page goes by the wonderfully Dickensian name of Lucy Liptrot. She was born in Orrell, near Wigan, on February 21st, 1889, the daughter of a grocer, and she trained as a nurse at Hope Hospital, Pendleton. As Google is so great at picking up anything published on the blog, at least if there are any Lucy Liptrot searchers out there, she will definitely grab their attention now!
Thursday, 26 November 2009
The sinking of the hospital ship "Anglia"
Another extract from 'Reminiscent Sketches' which has provided several posts before, this time an account of life on a hospital ship plying the English Channel in 1915. It describes the sinking of the hospital ship "Anglia" when she hit a mine in the Channel in November 1915. I have a personal interest in this account, as my son-in-law's uncle, Harry Eastwick, was one of the patients on board who did not survive the sinking that day.
Harry Eastwick CWGC entry
A SISTER'S EXPERIENCE ON A HOSPITAL SHIP
Alice Meldrum, QAIMNS Reserve
Of my many and varied experiences, at a General Hospital, at numerous Casualty Clearing Stations, at a Stationary Hospital, and on board a Hospital Ship, the latter was, to me, the most interesting, as it was the most exciting experience of my life.
I was posted to the Hospital Ship "Anglia" in May, 1915, and served on board her till November 17, 1915, when she struck a mine while crossing the Channel on the way to Dover, with a complement of wounded patients, and foundered.
Work on a hospital ship varies very much according to what is going on "up the line." During the heavy fighting the ship often did two journeys a day, to and from England. As soon as we were warned to expect a convoy of patients, each sister went into her own ward, where cots were made ready, feeds prepared, hot bottles filled, and everything put in readiness for the reception and comfort of the wounded and helpless patients. The patients were usually kept on board for the day only, but occasionally they remained overnight, then it was found easier for each sister to take three hours on night duty, and thus were all in readiness for the unloading which usually took place first thing in the morning. As a general rule the patients made very bad sailors. On arrival at Dover where the ambulance train was waiting, the patients were very quickly transferred, and after a fresh supply of stores had been taken on board, the ship at once returned to Boulogne, Calais or Dieppe. On the return journey the cleaning of the wards took place, beds were remade and everything put in readiness for the next convoy.
One never-to-be-forgotten day, orders were received to prepare for a distinguished patient. Shortly afterwards the Director-General of Medical Services arrived, and informed our Matron that the King, having met with an accident up the line, was coming on board. Four orderlies were sent to the station to meet the train and the King was carried below to a small ward, which had been previously prepared and beautifully decorated with flowers. There being only a small load that day the ship soon got away. With destroyers guarding the ship on either side, and bluejackets on board to keep a lookout for mines and submarines, we all felt very important. The sea was rough but fortunately the ship reached port without mishap.
The last and very memorable journey was on November 17th. About five hundred patients had been taken on board at Boulogne, and a very happy crowd they were, fractured femurs and head-cases who had been in different hospitals in France for some months. In their anticipation of returning home, they were anxiously watching through the portholes for the first sight of the white cliffs of England, which, alas, many of them were destined never to see. About 12 noon, when some six miles from Dover, there was a tremendous crash, and iron girders, etc., came falling down like matchwood. All too quickly it was realized that the ship had either been torpedoed, or struck a mine. My first act was to fix a lifebelt on myself, feeling that I was then in a better position to help others. All sisters and orderlies did likewise, and the patients who were able to do so, were ordered to put on the lifebelts which every patient had under his pillow; the walking cases were ordered on deck. We immediately set about removing splints, for the obvious reason that if a patient with his legs in splints got into the sea, his body would go under while the splints would rise to the surface. As many patients as possible were carried on deck, and those that could, threw themselves into the sea. Others were let down into the lifeboat, but unfortunately, as the ship was sinking so rapidly, it was only possible to lower one boat. The patients kept their heads wonderfully. There was no panic whatever, and when one realizes that in the majority of cases they were suffering from fractured limbs, severe wounds and amputations, it speaks volumes for their spirit, their grit and real bravery, for they must have suffered agonies of pain. After we had satisfied ourselves that there was no possible chance of getting any more patients out, for by that time the bows had quite gone under and only the ship's stern was above water, with the propellers going at a terrific rate and blinding us with spray. We got down on to the rudder and jumped into the sea, where hundreds of patients were still struggling in the water.
It was some time before the destroyers could get out to render help, but when they did, boats were quickly lowered and the survivors taken into them. Unfortunately, in some cases, the struggling patients hung on to the sides of a boat and capsized it, and once again all were thrown into the sea. It was a never-to-be-forgotten sight to see armless and legless men struggling in the water, very many of whom were eventually saved. I personally was in the water about forty minutes before being taken on a destroyer. That would be about the time the majority were in the water. The kindness of the men on the destroyers we shall never forget, their helpfulness was beyond words. Imagine our delight, on reaching Dover, to find many of the patients lying on the Admiralty Pier; they had last been seen floating in the water, and had been picked up by other destroyers. Many were the handshakes, kindly greetings, and expressions of real thankfulness at meeting again on terra firma.
There was a humorous side to it, for we must have looked very weird in the different garments with which we had been so kindly supplied by the officers and men of the destroyers. I would remind you that forty minutes in the water in November is not the kind of sea-bathing that one would indulge in from choice, yet, largely due to the kindness of the men of the destroyer, I do not think that anyone suffered seriously from cold. After a good meal on the ambulance train we were soon on our journey to London. So ended my experience with a hospital ship.
The sinking of the H.S. "Anglia" is now a matter for the war records only, but it supplied the most exciting moment of my life as a member of the Queen Alexandra's Imperial Military Nursing Service Reserve, and little as I should again like to go through the experience of being on a sinking ship, I shall always look back to my time on H.M.H.S. "Anglia" - prior to that incident - as one of the happiest I have ever spent. We were a very happy party on board and our work was always interesting, in addition to which the life was healthy. Most of the time we were at sea, and when in port we always had opportunities of going ashore for exercise, either at Boulogne or whatever port the ship put in at. The actual sinking of the ship itself pointed out to me the value of a life-belt, and the advantage of having it always at hand. In my own case, and still more so perhaps in the case of wounded patients, the majority could never have kept afloat in a cold sea for forty minutes had we not had the life-belt to support us. Another very valuable means of saving life was the bouyant deck seat, of which there were many on board. As soon as the patients below had been attended to and as many as possible taken on deck, we set about unlashing these seats and throwing them overboard. Many a man must have been saved by being picked up by the boats of the destroyers while hanging on to these floating structures. Anyone who has been to sea and spent some time in one ship will realize what we all felt when H.M.H.S. "Anglia" disappeared from view. She had been our home for many months and all felt very sad about it.
The King, who had had personal experience of the "Anglia" - and who had graciously expressed thanks for the attention received while on board - on hearing of the loss of the ship made special enquiries as to the welfare of all who had been on board at the time.
Harry Eastwick CWGC entry
A SISTER'S EXPERIENCE ON A HOSPITAL SHIP
Alice Meldrum, QAIMNS Reserve
Of my many and varied experiences, at a General Hospital, at numerous Casualty Clearing Stations, at a Stationary Hospital, and on board a Hospital Ship, the latter was, to me, the most interesting, as it was the most exciting experience of my life.
I was posted to the Hospital Ship "Anglia" in May, 1915, and served on board her till November 17, 1915, when she struck a mine while crossing the Channel on the way to Dover, with a complement of wounded patients, and foundered.
Work on a hospital ship varies very much according to what is going on "up the line." During the heavy fighting the ship often did two journeys a day, to and from England. As soon as we were warned to expect a convoy of patients, each sister went into her own ward, where cots were made ready, feeds prepared, hot bottles filled, and everything put in readiness for the reception and comfort of the wounded and helpless patients. The patients were usually kept on board for the day only, but occasionally they remained overnight, then it was found easier for each sister to take three hours on night duty, and thus were all in readiness for the unloading which usually took place first thing in the morning. As a general rule the patients made very bad sailors. On arrival at Dover where the ambulance train was waiting, the patients were very quickly transferred, and after a fresh supply of stores had been taken on board, the ship at once returned to Boulogne, Calais or Dieppe. On the return journey the cleaning of the wards took place, beds were remade and everything put in readiness for the next convoy.
One never-to-be-forgotten day, orders were received to prepare for a distinguished patient. Shortly afterwards the Director-General of Medical Services arrived, and informed our Matron that the King, having met with an accident up the line, was coming on board. Four orderlies were sent to the station to meet the train and the King was carried below to a small ward, which had been previously prepared and beautifully decorated with flowers. There being only a small load that day the ship soon got away. With destroyers guarding the ship on either side, and bluejackets on board to keep a lookout for mines and submarines, we all felt very important. The sea was rough but fortunately the ship reached port without mishap.
The last and very memorable journey was on November 17th. About five hundred patients had been taken on board at Boulogne, and a very happy crowd they were, fractured femurs and head-cases who had been in different hospitals in France for some months. In their anticipation of returning home, they were anxiously watching through the portholes for the first sight of the white cliffs of England, which, alas, many of them were destined never to see. About 12 noon, when some six miles from Dover, there was a tremendous crash, and iron girders, etc., came falling down like matchwood. All too quickly it was realized that the ship had either been torpedoed, or struck a mine. My first act was to fix a lifebelt on myself, feeling that I was then in a better position to help others. All sisters and orderlies did likewise, and the patients who were able to do so, were ordered to put on the lifebelts which every patient had under his pillow; the walking cases were ordered on deck. We immediately set about removing splints, for the obvious reason that if a patient with his legs in splints got into the sea, his body would go under while the splints would rise to the surface. As many patients as possible were carried on deck, and those that could, threw themselves into the sea. Others were let down into the lifeboat, but unfortunately, as the ship was sinking so rapidly, it was only possible to lower one boat. The patients kept their heads wonderfully. There was no panic whatever, and when one realizes that in the majority of cases they were suffering from fractured limbs, severe wounds and amputations, it speaks volumes for their spirit, their grit and real bravery, for they must have suffered agonies of pain. After we had satisfied ourselves that there was no possible chance of getting any more patients out, for by that time the bows had quite gone under and only the ship's stern was above water, with the propellers going at a terrific rate and blinding us with spray. We got down on to the rudder and jumped into the sea, where hundreds of patients were still struggling in the water.
It was some time before the destroyers could get out to render help, but when they did, boats were quickly lowered and the survivors taken into them. Unfortunately, in some cases, the struggling patients hung on to the sides of a boat and capsized it, and once again all were thrown into the sea. It was a never-to-be-forgotten sight to see armless and legless men struggling in the water, very many of whom were eventually saved. I personally was in the water about forty minutes before being taken on a destroyer. That would be about the time the majority were in the water. The kindness of the men on the destroyers we shall never forget, their helpfulness was beyond words. Imagine our delight, on reaching Dover, to find many of the patients lying on the Admiralty Pier; they had last been seen floating in the water, and had been picked up by other destroyers. Many were the handshakes, kindly greetings, and expressions of real thankfulness at meeting again on terra firma.
There was a humorous side to it, for we must have looked very weird in the different garments with which we had been so kindly supplied by the officers and men of the destroyers. I would remind you that forty minutes in the water in November is not the kind of sea-bathing that one would indulge in from choice, yet, largely due to the kindness of the men of the destroyer, I do not think that anyone suffered seriously from cold. After a good meal on the ambulance train we were soon on our journey to London. So ended my experience with a hospital ship.
The sinking of the H.S. "Anglia" is now a matter for the war records only, but it supplied the most exciting moment of my life as a member of the Queen Alexandra's Imperial Military Nursing Service Reserve, and little as I should again like to go through the experience of being on a sinking ship, I shall always look back to my time on H.M.H.S. "Anglia" - prior to that incident - as one of the happiest I have ever spent. We were a very happy party on board and our work was always interesting, in addition to which the life was healthy. Most of the time we were at sea, and when in port we always had opportunities of going ashore for exercise, either at Boulogne or whatever port the ship put in at. The actual sinking of the ship itself pointed out to me the value of a life-belt, and the advantage of having it always at hand. In my own case, and still more so perhaps in the case of wounded patients, the majority could never have kept afloat in a cold sea for forty minutes had we not had the life-belt to support us. Another very valuable means of saving life was the bouyant deck seat, of which there were many on board. As soon as the patients below had been attended to and as many as possible taken on deck, we set about unlashing these seats and throwing them overboard. Many a man must have been saved by being picked up by the boats of the destroyers while hanging on to these floating structures. Anyone who has been to sea and spent some time in one ship will realize what we all felt when H.M.H.S. "Anglia" disappeared from view. She had been our home for many months and all felt very sad about it.
The King, who had had personal experience of the "Anglia" - and who had graciously expressed thanks for the attention received while on board - on hearing of the loss of the ship made special enquiries as to the welfare of all who had been on board at the time.
Tuesday, 17 November 2009
The New Cavendish Club
When I was a student nurse in the nineteen sixties, one of my friends had a rather exciting and seemingly well-heeled aunt - Aunt Jude. One day Aunt Jude took us to have a meal at her London club - my own background was not one in which private clubs featured, and I soaked up the experience with eager interest. I might not have easily recalled that visit, but last week I was honoured to be invited to speak at a lunch held in that same club - the New Cavendish Club - to celebrate the one hundredth anniversary of the foundation of the voluntary aid movement in the United Kingdom. The Club is immensely proud of its history, and has also recently hosted an exhibition of photos and artefacts associated with VADs and their work over the last hundred years. It's a very different age today from the one which gave birth to the Club in 1920, but I was still able to talk to women who wore their VAD badges with pride, and could look back to the Second World War and say 'I was there.' The history of the Club can be read here - a wonderful peep back into the past, and women's history, in the midst of twenty-first century London.
The History of the New Cavendish Club
The History of the New Cavendish Club
Saturday, 14 November 2009
VADs - One hundred years
This year is the one hundredth anniversary of the formation of the Voluntary Aid movement in the United Kingdom. On the 16th August 1909 the War Office issued its 'Scheme for the Organisation of Volunatary Aid in England and Wales' which set up both male and female detachments to fill gaps in the Territorial medical services, with a similar scheme following in Scotland in December of that year. Somewhere between 70,000 and 100,000 women served as VADs during the Great War, the majority of them unpaid - probably the largest single example of voluntary service ever seen in the United Kingdom. In addition to working as nurses in almost every theatre of war, they worked as dispensers, cooks, drivers, clerks, storewomen, orderlies, waitresses and laboratory assistants.
Has their contribution been forgotten? In an age when the story of the Great War soldier has reached a level of great importance, the story of the service of women at that time has remained low-key - they continue to be seen as the 'also-rans'and often viewed as being of more use as a morale booster for the troops than as a group of skilled and hard-working women who put their own lives on hold for the good of their country. Family historians who find a VAD in their family tree are usually rather proud of them, and interested to find out what their contribution was during the war, but in general their part in the story has been written out. Last week included both the day when we 'remember' and also the announcement that nurses would, in future, need a degree to do their job. No degrees for the VADs - they were well-bred, educated women, with drive and integrity; with the resourcefulness to see what needed to be done without being told; with compassion, and an inbred ability to cope with the unexpected. I hope that today's young women who enter nurse training can put claim to the same attributes.
Has their contribution been forgotten? In an age when the story of the Great War soldier has reached a level of great importance, the story of the service of women at that time has remained low-key - they continue to be seen as the 'also-rans'and often viewed as being of more use as a morale booster for the troops than as a group of skilled and hard-working women who put their own lives on hold for the good of their country. Family historians who find a VAD in their family tree are usually rather proud of them, and interested to find out what their contribution was during the war, but in general their part in the story has been written out. Last week included both the day when we 'remember' and also the announcement that nurses would, in future, need a degree to do their job. No degrees for the VADs - they were well-bred, educated women, with drive and integrity; with the resourcefulness to see what needed to be done without being told; with compassion, and an inbred ability to cope with the unexpected. I hope that today's young women who enter nurse training can put claim to the same attributes.
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