PERSONAL ACCOUNTS BY MEMBERS OF QUEEN ALEXANDRA'S IMPERIAL MILITARY NURSING SERVICE and TERRITORIAL ARMY NURSING SERVICE
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CROWN COPYRIGHT: THE NATIONAL ARCHIVES WO222/189, ITEM 1D
INDIA to IRAQ and PERSIA
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Account by Matron G. Cocking
September 3rd 1939 found me in Kasauli, one of many delightful hill-stations of Northern India, a place so attractive and peaceful that it was difficult to credit a second World War was beginning, even with the wireless announcements reminding us of the fact from time to time. For two years I divided my time between the plain and hill stations of the Punjab, longing, like everybody else, to be sent on Active Service, listening to the wireless accounts of the tragedies of that period, and feeling that our families at home were getting more of the knocks of war than we were. At the same time we realized that the work in India, though on the surface less spectacular, was growing daily in importance. Practically all the British personnel were removed from our hospitals and their place taken by Anglo-Indians, all of whom had to be trained as quickly and efficiently as possible into useful members of the R.A.M.C. Members of the Auxiliary Nursing Service, India, also came to help us and to receive instruction. At times we gave lectures to Indian orderlies from the local Indian Military Hospital where no Sisters were employed and, personally, I found them all intensely keen, many very intelligent.
BAGHDAD
September 1941 I was recalled by telegram from leave in Kashmire and 36 hours after returning to my station in Ambala, was reporting at the dock side in Bombay en route for overseas. I now found myself on a cargo boat which was taking ‘details’ to Iraq. Amongst them were several British Sisters returning to their parent unit, 61 General Hospital. Six other British Sisters, eight Sisters of the Indian Military Nursing Service Reserve, and myself were known as “The Orphans”, since nobody knew to whom we belonged or where we were going. On arrival at Busra, we were informed that we were the Nursing Staff of 24 Combined General Hospital and a day or so later, found ourselves en route for Baghdad. Baghdad has always given me the impression of being an island standing alone in the middle of the Ocean, only the sea is of sand; you can travel for miles in any direction and see nothing but desert.
The hospital was a tented one of, nominally, 600 beds (we sometimes had nearly double the number of patients) in 100 bedded sections spread well apart, one section British and five Indian. The tentage was painted a reddish-brown, as camouflage. Alas! Later, when “the rains came”, the camouflage came off and descended in drips from unexpected angles on to us and the patients, till we looked somewhat like clowns in a circus! The hospital was already working, and at great pressure, when we arrived, owing to a tremendous influx of malaria. The Matron of 35 General Hospital (not then functioning) and two Sisters loaned from other hospitals, were helping the men to stem the tide when we relieved them. Our own Matron did not join us till a few weeks later. It was a new experience for me to work in a hospital with Indian patients, and run almost entirely by Indians. The Indian, on the whole, makes an ideal patient, and is very grateful for anything done for him. The greatest difficulty was in overcoming the prejudice in allowing Sisters to go on Night-duty. “It is your sex; it is your sex!” I was told patiently, over and over again, to which I replied (less patiently I fear as time went on!) that, though I could not be held responsible for the unfortunate fact of our sex, I definitely was for the nursing of the patients and must insist on having a Sister in charge of any ward, both day and night, where there were very ill men. On the arrival of the Matron, I returned to my normal work in the Operating Theatre.
We were very full all that winter, an exceptionally severe one. Large convoys came down from the North, scores of Indians falling victims to frost-bite, owing to the unusual conditions, many losing their toes, a few their limbs. They also seem very prone to ‘chest’ conditions, and as they appear to share a child’s desire to play with fire, some wards were always filled with burns. Accidents were very common.
We will always remember with gratitude the help of the British residents of Baghdad. Without exception, from the British Residency downwards, all the wives and families took one or other of the local British and Combined General Hospitals under their wing. They organized and ran libraries for the patients, coming round the wards themselves twice a week to distribute and change books. They brought special delicacies to tempt the very sick and many comforts that make ‘that little bit of difference’ to an ill man. They made dressings and some helped in the actual ward work at a time when ‘that extra pair of hands’ meant so much. At Xmas they saw that each man had a ‘stocking’, sent a lot of Xmas fare, and supplied entertainment for the men. To ourselves, they extended a welcome that will make the majority of us remember our days in Baghdad as very happy ones.
TEHERAN
In the Spring of 1942, the Russians began releasing thousands of Poles, men, women and children, across the Caspian Sea, into Persia. These unfortunates arrived in a pitiable condition, the majority showing the effects of several years of life under bed conditions, many of ill treatment. Hundreds were stricken with typhus, many died on the road, others survived a bare few hours after admission to hospital.
34 Combined General Hospital, the first hospital to arrive in this area, worked in tents on a small stretch of desert about four miles out of Teheran, in order to prevent the spread of infection. They bore the brunt of the Typhus epidemic. A Matron and nine Sisters, including myself, came up from Iraq to join 18 Indian General Hospital in May and were given a site immediately adjoining 34. The Matron and Sisters of 34 Combined General Hospital were more than kind to us on arrival. In spite of their already heavy work, they provided meals for us for the first two days till our own Cookhouse was in a condition to function. Needless to say, several of our Sisters gave them assistance on their wards till our own hospital was in working order. All those on duty in the typhus wards wore white pyjama-suits over their clothes, tied at the waist, wrists and ankles, their heads swathed in a white cloth, to afford protection from lice. The number of these people that recovered under proper treatment was especially gratifying when one considered the state that many of them were in before the typhus attacked them.
The numbers admitted with typhus began falling off after our arrival and by the time we were ready to function we took the ordinary sick, of which there were many. As our patients increased, more Sisters were sent to us. We admitted men and boys only, except for one section for Polish A.T.S. We were also in tents and every drop of water had to be brought by water-cart, so that we had to use it carefully. We were a truly cosmopolitan outfit – British Sisters nursing Poles, in a purely Indian Hospital, in the middle of Persia! The Medical Officers all spoke English, of course, and we had the odd Anglo-Indian Orderly; otherwise the language situation was truly comic. It is extraordinary though, how quickly one can get used to grasping the ‘sense’ of what people are trying to say. We had several Polish A.T.S. working in the wards. Though completely untrained on arrival, most of the proved very good, and one or two of them understood a little French, which was a great help.
The discipline among these people was not as such as we are used to. It was nothing to go round on night-duty and find a few patients missing! They would return some hours later (often rather the worse for wear) and smile on us as though they had done nothing unusual! Our batmen were an education to us in themselves. The majority of them had obviously been swinging from tree to tree in the jungles of India until only a few weeks previously. Several appeared to understand no known language, others had never seen a white woman before, and were obviously reluctant to work for one. However, with perseverance, a little weeding-out, and the services of the much harassed Lance-Naik in charge, we managed to get some idea of work into them.
Beyond our little patch of desert, where it grew increasingly wild, and we had a mild sandstorm every evening for a month, the country was quite lovely. In May, the snow still lingered on the hills, yet wild tulips stood out of it on the lower slopes. One could drive far out into rural districts that reminded one of home, little streams of ice-cold water winding between green meadows decked with many of the English countryside flowers. Teheran itself is a well laid-out city, nice wide streets, with trees and buildings both pleasing to the eye and suitable to the climate. I was one of the Sisters fortunate enough to be present at the presentation held on the occasion of the Duke of Gloucester’s visit to the British Legation. The Legation stands in cool, green surroundings and we were very kindly allowed the use of the swimming-pool, a very real joy as summer advanced.
AHWAZ
In July of 1942, I was sent as Acting Matron to 21 Combined General Hospital in Ahwaz. The hospital was a small one, consisting of 100 British and 100 Indian beds. The main hospital was accommodated in a school building, with a few tents to cope with any overflow. There was a special Heat-Stroke Centre built underground exactly opposite the main building. This consisted of two rooms, one of which had the air-cooler working almost continuously and stored large stacks of ice, to deal with the extreme cases. Immediately opposite was another ward into which the patients were moved as soon as they had sufficiently recovered, until such time as they were considered fit to stand the much warmer atmosphere of the ordinary wards. Before I left, other underground wards were being added so that, in the next hot season, patients could be kept below for a longer period, and thus lessen the risk of relapse. I had met the odd ‘heat-stroke’ before, but never had I come across them in such numbers. The wards, particularly those of the British Section, were filled with practically nothing else. It was impossible to distinguish between the very ill and the ‘not so bads’ on admission. Often a man would come in with, apparently, very mild symptoms, only to be discovered a few hours later, semi-delirious, with a temperature of 108° F!! So it was a case of watching every one all the time.
The Sisters and Orderlies worked splendidly, for off-duty was scarce over the bad patches, and several of them went down with Sand-fly Fever and a mild form of Dysentery. I was fortunate in having spent the early summer in the comparative coolness of the North, but the majority had had several weeks of it before I arrived. We also had three members of the Auxiliary Nursing Service India on the Staff. Although I knew they must have been used to heat of a kind in India, and, of course, I always saw they took adequate off-duty, they all seemed too young to me for such drastic conditions. The temperature had often touched the 130° F mark, and, for weeks on end, never fell below 127° F! Yet the nearest to a complaint I ever heard was that ‘It was a trifle warm for the time of the year’!
Our greatest worry was getting refreshing drinks for our really sick. For a time, in the hottest period, all jellies, fruit-juices, fresh fruits, etc., gave ___ . Here the British residents, in this case nearly all connected with the Medical Company, came to the rescue. Through the whole of that difficult time they provided us with sufficient to give to our worst cases, and only those who have nursed in a really hot climate know what that means. As the cooler weather came, they gave teas for those patients able to attend them, in their own grounds. How the men appreciated them! As many remarked to me, “It was like a little bit of home.”
Our Mess was in an old Persian house, built in the form of a square, with a courtyard in the middle. As the heat increased, we hit upon the idea of converting two semi-underground cellars, normally used for storage purposes, into Dining-Room and Sitting-Room respectively. With the enthusiastic help of the R.Es and a little native pottery from the Bazaars, they were made most attractive and oh! the difference in comfort! They were degrees cooler. We slept on the roof in order to do so at all, and coming down, even at 6 a.m. was to receive a blast of heat as from a furnace. Ahwaz itself is a strange contrast to Teheran. A few squalid streets of native shops from the Bazaar. Thieving is rife. Although our windows and doors were barred, and a guard stood on duty outside all night, we sometimes had arms coming through the bars in an endeavour to steal something within reach. It was here that I was presented with Socks, mongrel son of a famous watch-dog, who, I am glad to say, has more than upheld his mother’s reputation.
In spite of the barrenness of our desert surroundings, and in spite of the sharks in our river that sent us so many casualties, I was very fond of Ahwaz. I was happy in hospital, happy in my staff and in our friends, so that, when orders for the Middle East came for me in December, I left with more than one regret.
On to Egypt and Benghazi
September 3rd 1939 found me in Kasauli, one of many delightful hill-stations of Northern India, a place so attractive and peaceful that it was difficult to credit a second World War was beginning, even with the wireless announcements reminding us of the fact from time to time. For two years I divided my time between the plain and hill stations of the Punjab, longing, like everybody else, to be sent on Active Service, listening to the wireless accounts of the tragedies of that period, and feeling that our families at home were getting more of the knocks of war than we were. At the same time we realized that the work in India, though on the surface less spectacular, was growing daily in importance. Practically all the British personnel were removed from our hospitals and their place taken by Anglo-Indians, all of whom had to be trained as quickly and efficiently as possible into useful members of the R.A.M.C. Members of the Auxiliary Nursing Service, India, also came to help us and to receive instruction. At times we gave lectures to Indian orderlies from the local Indian Military Hospital where no Sisters were employed and, personally, I found them all intensely keen, many very intelligent.
BAGHDAD
September 1941 I was recalled by telegram from leave in Kashmire and 36 hours after returning to my station in Ambala, was reporting at the dock side in Bombay en route for overseas. I now found myself on a cargo boat which was taking ‘details’ to Iraq. Amongst them were several British Sisters returning to their parent unit, 61 General Hospital. Six other British Sisters, eight Sisters of the Indian Military Nursing Service Reserve, and myself were known as “The Orphans”, since nobody knew to whom we belonged or where we were going. On arrival at Busra, we were informed that we were the Nursing Staff of 24 Combined General Hospital and a day or so later, found ourselves en route for Baghdad. Baghdad has always given me the impression of being an island standing alone in the middle of the Ocean, only the sea is of sand; you can travel for miles in any direction and see nothing but desert.
The hospital was a tented one of, nominally, 600 beds (we sometimes had nearly double the number of patients) in 100 bedded sections spread well apart, one section British and five Indian. The tentage was painted a reddish-brown, as camouflage. Alas! Later, when “the rains came”, the camouflage came off and descended in drips from unexpected angles on to us and the patients, till we looked somewhat like clowns in a circus! The hospital was already working, and at great pressure, when we arrived, owing to a tremendous influx of malaria. The Matron of 35 General Hospital (not then functioning) and two Sisters loaned from other hospitals, were helping the men to stem the tide when we relieved them. Our own Matron did not join us till a few weeks later. It was a new experience for me to work in a hospital with Indian patients, and run almost entirely by Indians. The Indian, on the whole, makes an ideal patient, and is very grateful for anything done for him. The greatest difficulty was in overcoming the prejudice in allowing Sisters to go on Night-duty. “It is your sex; it is your sex!” I was told patiently, over and over again, to which I replied (less patiently I fear as time went on!) that, though I could not be held responsible for the unfortunate fact of our sex, I definitely was for the nursing of the patients and must insist on having a Sister in charge of any ward, both day and night, where there were very ill men. On the arrival of the Matron, I returned to my normal work in the Operating Theatre.
We were very full all that winter, an exceptionally severe one. Large convoys came down from the North, scores of Indians falling victims to frost-bite, owing to the unusual conditions, many losing their toes, a few their limbs. They also seem very prone to ‘chest’ conditions, and as they appear to share a child’s desire to play with fire, some wards were always filled with burns. Accidents were very common.
We will always remember with gratitude the help of the British residents of Baghdad. Without exception, from the British Residency downwards, all the wives and families took one or other of the local British and Combined General Hospitals under their wing. They organized and ran libraries for the patients, coming round the wards themselves twice a week to distribute and change books. They brought special delicacies to tempt the very sick and many comforts that make ‘that little bit of difference’ to an ill man. They made dressings and some helped in the actual ward work at a time when ‘that extra pair of hands’ meant so much. At Xmas they saw that each man had a ‘stocking’, sent a lot of Xmas fare, and supplied entertainment for the men. To ourselves, they extended a welcome that will make the majority of us remember our days in Baghdad as very happy ones.
TEHERAN
In the Spring of 1942, the Russians began releasing thousands of Poles, men, women and children, across the Caspian Sea, into Persia. These unfortunates arrived in a pitiable condition, the majority showing the effects of several years of life under bed conditions, many of ill treatment. Hundreds were stricken with typhus, many died on the road, others survived a bare few hours after admission to hospital.
34 Combined General Hospital, the first hospital to arrive in this area, worked in tents on a small stretch of desert about four miles out of Teheran, in order to prevent the spread of infection. They bore the brunt of the Typhus epidemic. A Matron and nine Sisters, including myself, came up from Iraq to join 18 Indian General Hospital in May and were given a site immediately adjoining 34. The Matron and Sisters of 34 Combined General Hospital were more than kind to us on arrival. In spite of their already heavy work, they provided meals for us for the first two days till our own Cookhouse was in a condition to function. Needless to say, several of our Sisters gave them assistance on their wards till our own hospital was in working order. All those on duty in the typhus wards wore white pyjama-suits over their clothes, tied at the waist, wrists and ankles, their heads swathed in a white cloth, to afford protection from lice. The number of these people that recovered under proper treatment was especially gratifying when one considered the state that many of them were in before the typhus attacked them.
The numbers admitted with typhus began falling off after our arrival and by the time we were ready to function we took the ordinary sick, of which there were many. As our patients increased, more Sisters were sent to us. We admitted men and boys only, except for one section for Polish A.T.S. We were also in tents and every drop of water had to be brought by water-cart, so that we had to use it carefully. We were a truly cosmopolitan outfit – British Sisters nursing Poles, in a purely Indian Hospital, in the middle of Persia! The Medical Officers all spoke English, of course, and we had the odd Anglo-Indian Orderly; otherwise the language situation was truly comic. It is extraordinary though, how quickly one can get used to grasping the ‘sense’ of what people are trying to say. We had several Polish A.T.S. working in the wards. Though completely untrained on arrival, most of the proved very good, and one or two of them understood a little French, which was a great help.
The discipline among these people was not as such as we are used to. It was nothing to go round on night-duty and find a few patients missing! They would return some hours later (often rather the worse for wear) and smile on us as though they had done nothing unusual! Our batmen were an education to us in themselves. The majority of them had obviously been swinging from tree to tree in the jungles of India until only a few weeks previously. Several appeared to understand no known language, others had never seen a white woman before, and were obviously reluctant to work for one. However, with perseverance, a little weeding-out, and the services of the much harassed Lance-Naik in charge, we managed to get some idea of work into them.
Beyond our little patch of desert, where it grew increasingly wild, and we had a mild sandstorm every evening for a month, the country was quite lovely. In May, the snow still lingered on the hills, yet wild tulips stood out of it on the lower slopes. One could drive far out into rural districts that reminded one of home, little streams of ice-cold water winding between green meadows decked with many of the English countryside flowers. Teheran itself is a well laid-out city, nice wide streets, with trees and buildings both pleasing to the eye and suitable to the climate. I was one of the Sisters fortunate enough to be present at the presentation held on the occasion of the Duke of Gloucester’s visit to the British Legation. The Legation stands in cool, green surroundings and we were very kindly allowed the use of the swimming-pool, a very real joy as summer advanced.
AHWAZ
In July of 1942, I was sent as Acting Matron to 21 Combined General Hospital in Ahwaz. The hospital was a small one, consisting of 100 British and 100 Indian beds. The main hospital was accommodated in a school building, with a few tents to cope with any overflow. There was a special Heat-Stroke Centre built underground exactly opposite the main building. This consisted of two rooms, one of which had the air-cooler working almost continuously and stored large stacks of ice, to deal with the extreme cases. Immediately opposite was another ward into which the patients were moved as soon as they had sufficiently recovered, until such time as they were considered fit to stand the much warmer atmosphere of the ordinary wards. Before I left, other underground wards were being added so that, in the next hot season, patients could be kept below for a longer period, and thus lessen the risk of relapse. I had met the odd ‘heat-stroke’ before, but never had I come across them in such numbers. The wards, particularly those of the British Section, were filled with practically nothing else. It was impossible to distinguish between the very ill and the ‘not so bads’ on admission. Often a man would come in with, apparently, very mild symptoms, only to be discovered a few hours later, semi-delirious, with a temperature of 108° F!! So it was a case of watching every one all the time.
The Sisters and Orderlies worked splendidly, for off-duty was scarce over the bad patches, and several of them went down with Sand-fly Fever and a mild form of Dysentery. I was fortunate in having spent the early summer in the comparative coolness of the North, but the majority had had several weeks of it before I arrived. We also had three members of the Auxiliary Nursing Service India on the Staff. Although I knew they must have been used to heat of a kind in India, and, of course, I always saw they took adequate off-duty, they all seemed too young to me for such drastic conditions. The temperature had often touched the 130° F mark, and, for weeks on end, never fell below 127° F! Yet the nearest to a complaint I ever heard was that ‘It was a trifle warm for the time of the year’!
Our greatest worry was getting refreshing drinks for our really sick. For a time, in the hottest period, all jellies, fruit-juices, fresh fruits, etc., gave ___ . Here the British residents, in this case nearly all connected with the Medical Company, came to the rescue. Through the whole of that difficult time they provided us with sufficient to give to our worst cases, and only those who have nursed in a really hot climate know what that means. As the cooler weather came, they gave teas for those patients able to attend them, in their own grounds. How the men appreciated them! As many remarked to me, “It was like a little bit of home.”
Our Mess was in an old Persian house, built in the form of a square, with a courtyard in the middle. As the heat increased, we hit upon the idea of converting two semi-underground cellars, normally used for storage purposes, into Dining-Room and Sitting-Room respectively. With the enthusiastic help of the R.Es and a little native pottery from the Bazaars, they were made most attractive and oh! the difference in comfort! They were degrees cooler. We slept on the roof in order to do so at all, and coming down, even at 6 a.m. was to receive a blast of heat as from a furnace. Ahwaz itself is a strange contrast to Teheran. A few squalid streets of native shops from the Bazaar. Thieving is rife. Although our windows and doors were barred, and a guard stood on duty outside all night, we sometimes had arms coming through the bars in an endeavour to steal something within reach. It was here that I was presented with Socks, mongrel son of a famous watch-dog, who, I am glad to say, has more than upheld his mother’s reputation.
In spite of the barrenness of our desert surroundings, and in spite of the sharks in our river that sent us so many casualties, I was very fond of Ahwaz. I was happy in hospital, happy in my staff and in our friends, so that, when orders for the Middle East came for me in December, I left with more than one regret.
On to Egypt and Benghazi
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