Saturday 12 June 2010

Creating ... the 3rd L.G.H.

Winter 1915-1916

The hospital's main building, which before the war was the Royal Victoria Patriotic School - a home for the orphan daughters of soldiers and sailors - required many alterations to adapt it to its present use. What the first weeks of work here were like is told in the following article by our Assistant Matron.

It was a dull and drizzling day, but not even the dismallest weather could damp the ardour of the ten of us who were arriving at the 3rd London for the first time. We were duly admitted to the grounds, and admired what we saw of the building's exterior. The important part, however, was its interior; and this we hastened to explore. At the start we entered what was then the children's needle-room, and our gaze was met with rows of little cupboards, each numbered so that the possessor could keep her own treasures separate. From here we went to the workroom, wherein we stored all the children's winter clothing and hats. (Oh, those hats! Shall I ever forget the everlasting clothes-baskets which we filled in clearing the cupboards! It seemed as though they would never cease!)

Then we went upstairs, where we found a room with No.5 on its door. Within it, a curious spectacle met the sight. Those who know that room now, as a hospital ward, would never guess the change that has taken place. True, the room contained beds, when we first beheld it; but such tiny beds - mere cots for young children; rows of cots, and a long low cupboard running down the centre of the dormitory, forming a table, and partitioned so that each cot might have its own locker. It was funny to see those lockers, so low that even a child of three might have to grapple with it. From No.5 we traversed room after room of precisely the same pattern, until we reached 12. Here we encountered the staircase again, and, mounting two more flights, arrived at a similar batch of rooms numbered 1 to 4. It was interesting to note in every case that between each pair of dormitories there was a small intervening apartment arranged with windows facing in each direction, so that the attendant stationed there might watch her flock without having to go into the dormitory and in any way disturb them. One's sympathy went out to the former occupants of those lines of wee beds as one mentally pictured the tiny heads nestling on the pillows. Alas! those beds, so comfy to the wee ones, did not prove the same to us, I can assure you. Yet for some time we had to use them - there were no others - for our hours of rest. But every difficulty was overcome by the reflection that it was war time, and that all such minor discomforts must be willingly endured.

With marvellous rapidity the scene in those dormitories was changed. Each dormitory became a hospital ward, the cots were replaced by full-length beds, the lockers were removed, and useful articles and utensils placed along the centre of the wards in their stead (the floors having previously been stained), not the least important of these new introductions being the familiar deal tables on which the Tommies have their meals. Yes, the change was a remarkable one. In every direction one saw workmen, orderlies, nurses, the first-mentioned smashing glass and putting in new windows, converting basin-rooms into bathrooms, sterilising rooms, pantries, sculleries, etc.; the orderlies, in procession, exchanging cots for bedsteads; and the nurses toiling up and down the stairs all day long with the equipment. As other nurses arrived they were told off to make beds, which, like the disposal of the hats, seemed an endless task. It was fascinating to watch each day's development in the creation of this new enterprise - to see how constantly something fresh was added to make the place more hospital-like. We had only been here ten days when, suddenly, we received an order to be ready at a given hour that day - and it was a Sunday. In a short time a trail of motor cars appeared, conveying the surgeons. Everyone had rushed on duty; beds were made as if by magic, the theatre was fitted up, surgeons' sterilising water was made ready, also preparations for lotions; and ere we sought repose - having all been on guard that night - we were satisfied that we were equal to any emergency, and were proud of the fact, too! As it turned out, the object of our labours did not actually put in an appearance until some few weeks afterwards. When the wounded did at last come, there was, of course, the keenest excitement.

In front of the hospital there is a large open space with a field which slopes down to a railway line. Here, at last, the (to us) all-important Red Cross train was signalled. We were all on the look-out, and the man at the signal-box had promised to give us warning of the train's approach. We had been allowed to go down to the railings which separate our field from the line; and as the Red Cross train passed on its way to the junction we raised a cheer to welcome its travellers home to the England for whose sake they had borne so much. Directly after the train had gone past the scene was empty of life again, for all the nurses and orderlies had disappeared and were at their posts in their wards ready to receive the first batch of wounded. These latter will, I am sure, never forget the reception they received. All the way from the station they listened to a long, long roll of cheering, and here, too, cheers met them.

E. M. NORTHOVER

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