Odds and Ends from my Ward

October 1916

Notes by a 3rd London General Sister

The bayonet is not at all a funny thing, I imagine, yet I can never forget the naive remark of one of my patients:
"Bayonet fighting isn't what you think it is Sister. You see, he grabbed my rifle, and I grabbed his. And there we stood. I couldn't think of what else to do ... so I spat in his eye."

Celebrating St. Patrick
Of another patient, whom I shall call Gavan, I gathered that, while soldiering in India, his chief distinction was a chronic thirst. Gavan drank his second pair of boots and as much of his kit as he could turn into cash. On the shelf above his bed he displayed what appeared to be a beautifully kept kit. Closer inspection proved it to consist of:
a. an overcoat
b. newspapers cunningly disposed as padding, and
c. the soles of a pair of boots to which there were no uppers.
Furthermore, Gavan had a glass eye, which he pawned on occasion. One St. Patrick's Day he wanted to go on the spree with some of the boys, but owing to the circumstance that his eye was in pawn Gavan was not able to get out. So the party hied them to the wheelwright's and made an eye of wood. And in honour of the day they painted it green.
Everybody satisfied.

A Compliment
There are compliments which I treasure, some of them rather touching. The other day one of them reached me in a letter from a former patient. Clancy had come home from Gallipoli desperately wounded, and for a long time 'twas thought that he'd not recover. But eventually, after being for many months in my ward, he became convalescent. In due course he rejoined his regiment, and I now hear that he has just been sent to France. Says Clancy, writing to tell me this news:
"Reserve Bed 5 for me, please, Sister."

A Slight Misunderstanding
Mrs. Jones came from Lancashire to see her husband, who was a patient in this hospital. When the train neared London, she enquired how to get to Wandsworth.
"Take a 'bus," a Cockney advised her.
"I want no Bass," she answered, "a cup of tea will do me."
Relating the incident to her husband in the ward she cried, "Do I look like a boozer, Bill?"

Of Course!
When a new patient was asked what his name was, he replied, "Smith, H."
"And what does the H stand for?"
"'Enry."

Concerning Correspondence
Sometimes one is asked to write a letter for a man who cannot manage this himself ... but nearly always can he summon sufficient strength to make the crosses at the bottom of the page - the kisses, which are a language understood all the world over. One patient who had never learnt to write, always left to me the details of what should be said in the regular letter to his wife. Only once, when I read over to him what I had written, he suggested a postscript. "Please, Sister, write that I don't smoke a pipe now; I like cigarettes best."
The cigarettes duly arrived.
This same man, when he had put a row of crosses at the foot of the letter, would place it at once in the envelope, in order that I shouldn't 'read the kisses.' Similarly, when a reply came from his wife, and was read to him, I had to refrain from 'reading' her kisses.

The Significant Adjective
It's a little trying to receive a letter from some patient's sweetheart or wife thanking me for my 'motherly care' of him. They all use the word 'motherly' - and it sounds a trifle pointed ... one isn't so very ancient after all.

E.