Stock-taking, Spring, 1916

April 1916

"Today," said the Sister, "we will count our Quartermaster's stock."
"Right," said the Staff. And then it began.
The Junior Staff went gaily collecting: "Twenty-five, twenty-six, twenty- ..." when a howl went up from the patients.
"We want our towels."
It was, of course, inevitable that they should all want to wash at that precise moment. Then a rumour started with the Staff Nurse. "I know there ought to be fifty-nine counterpanes, so where are the other seven?" And the rumour spread and spread, and with it consternation and dismay. Everybody cross-examined everybody else - the Junior Staff searched each bed wildly - the Senior Staff frenziedly turned out cupboards, pantries, and lockers. And the patients ... made hay while the sun shone, as it were. To this chaotic upheaval entered the Orderly, who, on being informed of the tragedy, produced with a serene and unruffled air an aged I.O.U. for - thirteen counterpanes.

Peace, perfect peace - disturbed by a plaintive wail from the Sister: "One sheet short, and I counted them myself only yesterday!"
The search began again, commencing with the Orderly. Nothing doing. Then each sheet was counted by each member of the staff, individually and collectively; neighbouring linen-cupboards were 'investigated' but in vain, as everyone else was stock-taking too. Anxious enquiries were made of the M.O.'s (who thought it a huge joke), of the Fumigator (who knew 'nothin' abaht it'), of the gentlemen of the Dirty Linen Department (who said, 'Madam, we are 101 short ourselves and therefore can do nothing'), and of the Laundry Ladies (who condoled - but were not to be cajoled). And a cloud of depression and gloom descended on that ward. The patients were restless and scowled furtively at one another, and the staff, alas, was snappish, almost peevish; and temperatures rose, all on account of our sheet that had strayed from the fold. And not even an otherwise complete (and even plus!) stock could atone for the erring one.

And as the fatal hour of 8 p.m. drew night, a last combined hunt was instituted, and each bed was again feverishly unmade before the worry-worn patient was allowed to enter it ... when suddenly a cry of joy arose from the Sister.
"Rejoice with me for I have found my sheet which was lost - being used as a counterpane on the end bed but one!"
And the ward rejoiced with exceeding great joy, and the staff gave a tea-fight to celebrate it.

AN ONLOOKER