AWM41 1068 - [Official History, 1914-18 War: Records of Arthur G Butler:] Nursing - Personal Narratives - Extracts from letters of Staff Nurse C E Strom - 21 June 1917 - 30 September 1918 - Part 5

37.
and the name scrawled in blue pencil across the front......
It's sunny today; the sun streams cheerfully in at the 
open door of the marquee. Several nomadic aeroplanes
buzz gently and drowsily overhead. They are always
practising hereabouts, on the fine days, going up and
sailing about lazily, doing "loop the loop and other
studies", with all the latest turns and twists and fancy
touches. By this time we are so used to them that half 
the time we never even look up. 
By the way, we have wonderful and convenient dugouts here;
so, should rumours of air-raids ever reach you from these
parts, just rest reassured.......
I have been bereft of a permanent home; my ward was closed
some days ago, the boys being transferred or discharged,
and since then I have been wandering round the hospital,
giving days off. It isn't the most satisfactory of jobs,
as you may imagine - every ward has its own methods
every line its own M.O.? EVERY M.O. his own idiosyncrasies.
If thought I'd be a permanently moving picture, I should
get them all tabulated but I have hopes........Today I am
in a ward full of the most delightful Jocks. They make 
up for the tragedies of yesterday, when I suffered from
a collection of the greater grumblers I've ever met in
hospital blues, and the most extraordinary of M.O's. who
took a year to do his morning round...........
10/2/18.
.......The days are getting pleasantly longer now, and
warmer........ The nights are cold and the early mornings
frosty, but we feel we could put up comfortably with this
weather for a long time .......
I have a P.B. job at last. One day about three weeks ago
a wardful of boys were transferred to us from one of the 
well-established, Imperial staffed, hut hospitals in the
command.   The morning they arrived we were enjoying one
of our special brand of fogs; the ward to which they were
consigned was without equipment (last alas, few re-opened
wards contain much, on their re-opening, worth having)
and had to be hastily furnished from the stores; there had 
been no word of their coming until they had almost
arrived, consequently their rations had not been waiting
on the mat for them exactly, and we were a tent hospital,
which was bad enough, and a dysentery hospital, which was 
worse. Anyone of those reasons would have been sufficient
to damp their enthusiasm - supposing any of them had any,
which was doubtful, the ration complication was more than
enough. Deprive a Tommy of his rations and you may as well
hang yourself for all the comfort you'll get out of life
until he gets them back again. It isn't that he cares
much about the food itself, except that it's rather
necessary to eat something; it's just that he's
entitled to it and he knows it. There are very few things
the Tommy is entitled to, according to the British Army,
but no one has any right to rob him of his rations. He
may not eat them when he gets them - that's not the point. 
he's got them, and that's what matters.....I've heard more
rows about rations since we came out here than over any
other subject.....I'm glad I'm not orderly sometimes. Not
that I blame the Tommy - far from it. He might, on
occasions, make less fuss about the matter, but he's 
perfectly justified.
Well to return to the wardful of despondent lads, sitting
on their unmade beds, you can imagine the joyful scene.
 

38.
Coming from a civilized hut hospital, with wooden floors
and polished brass work, with neat rows of level beds, and
wide spaces - coming from that "home from home" to the
foggy muddy, bedraggled 42nd., a dysentery hospital with
restricted diets and isolation, with damp canvas floors
and flapping draughty doors, and no windows at all, well
naturally, they felt a trifle saddened. 
That, thank goodness and Father Time, is a whole three
weeks ago; since that dismal morning we have done much and 
wrought many changes. The two orderlies I am blessed with
are splendid chaps; we have got the ward thoroughly
equipped; we have got the commissariat department running
more or less smoothly (i.e. not more than one shortage
per day and always enough sugar for the tea), we have had
the leaky bits attended to, and the mud cleaned up.
Charge sister is a dear, and the M.O. a joy to work for.
What more could any one desire. 
And the boys are fine. Whatever they thought about their
unfortunate reception they kept pretty well out of my
hearing - though I have no doubt they told orderly.

Whatever their opinions about the much discussed 42nd,
its disadvantages, and its Australian nursing sisters, as
compared with the wonders of that lost paradise, they say
but little about them......
Night Duty.
23/2/18.
.....
Here I am on nights again - it's always "on nights
or "on days" hereabouts....."
This is my second night on. Yesterday we went off at
the time honoured hour of 1 p.m., collected out goods,
washed and packed for today's shift. Today, before
retiring, we moved from our old familiar tent to one more
remote from the roar of traffic..... One of the orderlies
from the mess generally gives us a hand with the heaviest
luggage, but we manage a good deal of it ourselves.....
I was interrupted by an agitated orderly; the wards were
all being blown inside out, and everything was getting
smashed, and the tent pegs were pulling out in all
directions. It's certainly blowing "something terrific"
.......So we all went out and fixed up the tent pegs and 
the sides of the tents and everything else that appeared
to require fixing, including some of the boys' peace of 
mind. The poor old shell-shocked chaps hate winds and
hate air-raids alarm, and antiaircraft firing; they don't
say much, but they look volumes. 
The wards were in a charming state. The bellying of the
tent walls knocked many of the lockers over, precipitating
their contents on the floor; screens blew over, all the
tin dishes and food trays in the pantry annex rattled and
crashed and clattered; the electric lights (which we
tie up in red handkerchiefs at night, but do not put out)
danced up & down.......
We have the most ferocious winds here; they are just
dreadful. They sweep up the hills in great gales,
buffetting the poor old hospital until one wonders that
there's a tent left standing...... Familiarly they are
known as Vardars, from the approximate direction from
which they come..........
Night duty.
1/3/18
 

 39.
Supper here is one of the events of the night; yet how
different from the suppers at Hotiack. There the quiet

hills stood sentinel, and the peace of the country lay 

around us; here we are in the midst of camps, settlements, 

and other hospitals - the little village on the hillside 

has given place to the sloping city......We sup in the 

night super.'s office; an ordinary marquee. Behold us all

hurrying thither, at the hour of midnight, freighted with

a lantern, mug, camp stool, and prodigious appetite,

battling with the wind or struggling with the mud. From

all sides come twinkling lantern lights as the girls

descend from their respective wards; the night super.'s

tent is at the very lowest part of the hospital. Enter

fourteen of us at intervals, swop yawns and yarns, mention

the mud, more or less pleasantly, doff our macintoshes, and

putting out lamps carefully where we'll know they're ours,

proceed to the attack; it is rather a common thing.... to

take a clean dry bright lantern down to supper, leave it

about casually without due note of its position, and find 

oneself left with a leaky, dirty, smoky old thing which no 

self respecting orderly would care to handle........

They always remind me of so many faithful dogs, these oil

lamps, as they flicker solemnly in a wide semi-circle,....

We can't put them out, on account of the appalling

scarcity of matches.........

We generally have bully beef for supper - washed down with

copious draughts of tea, and eked out with bread and jam.

Sometimes we have pies of tinned rabbit, or army beef,

occasionally we have tinned mutton bird, the last, I

fancy, is an acquired taste. We take it in turns to get

the supper, and wash up subsequently, orderly belonging to

our lines carting the goods about for us from the 

cookhouse

I am on night duty on the same line as I worked on days.

I have here only three wards, or 87 men to look after,

as compared with the five at the 66th; and have two

orderlies to help me do it. There is a great deal of

treatment at night, for so many of the lads are on two

or four hourly mixtures, and there are always malarias to

attend to, and the "no diets" to entertain with beeftea,

or Bengers.

It is rather difficult sometimes to provide the troops 

with nourishment at night. The Wards get so many extras

daily from the Red Cross kitchen, such extras being those

things most suitable for the boys on low diet, or no diet

at all. But these extras are so much in demand in a

hospital such as this, and the supply so limited, owing

to the difficulties in the way of obtaining food stuffs,

that often despite all the care of a considerate daystaff,

by night fall the stock of drinkables has run distressingly

low, especially if they have had to meet emergencies in the

way of new cases or relapses. Moreover, so many of the

lads won't touch Bengers, for example, so many of them

can't stick beeftea, and clamour for barley water or

"nowt". This, and the fact that all three wards rarely

run short of the same thing at the same time, necessitates

a gread deal of borrowing, which is always a nuisance

between wards, and a clear plan in ones mind of the exact

nature, and whereabouts of every drinkable thing on the

premises.

To this end I make a thorough inspection nightly as soon

as the day staff have departed...............

At present we are not very busy: that is to say I start

work seriously somewhere about half past four, finishing

shortly after seven, the day staff arriving at half past.

40.

We have several lads seriously, though no one at present

dangerously ill. With the exception of these boys all the

patients wash themselves, and the up patients - the number

of whom varies from day to day - make their own beds.

Sometimes there may be one up patient in a whole wardful,

sometimes none at all; at the time of writing we have

about one third up, in each ward.

Two of these up patients arise gallantly every morning,

to assist me with the bed making and distribution of

washing water; a different two every morning until the

supply runs out, when they start again. They arrange

amongst themselves who are to be the two sacrificed on

the altar of duty - a chilly business these mornings -

and let me know the evening before, when I come on.

But there has never yet been a lack of volunteers.

"Smudge and me in the morning, sister," they will say, and

Smudge and "me" are accordingly awakened with a basin of

cocoa at the awful hour of five a.m. and proceed cheerfully 

to arise and "get on with it" without further delay.
I think the way the Tommies work is just great. There are

those who would have us believe that the Tommy does nothing

for nothing - that, whenever there has been service

rendered, there has been, hand and hand with it, hope of

reward. I must admit that there is a certain section of
the community who, very obviously do feel this way about

it; but the percantage is small, and in no instance, I

fancy does the proportion of "pointers" in any one

community exceed that of any other community elsewhere.

Where in this world should one meet with the ideal

community, every member of which willing to do anything

for anybody else, with no thought of compensation or

reward?
It is absurd to generalise about the Tommies

disparagingly, as they come from all over the united

kingdom, and have been drawn from every trade, and every

profession, represented every creed and every class, it

would be difficult to find anywhere a more mixed company
all speaking the same tongue. There are fine large
hearted men, and mean little imitations: cheery friendly
souls and snivelling abominations; humourous philosophers
and one-eyed miseries; chivalrous knights and foul-
mouthed, small minded commoners - there is no end to the
types, but speaking from personal experience up to date,
I can honestly say that never has the happy hearted,
chivalrous element been other than in the majority.
About one man in twentynine, that is to say, a wardful,
turns out to be a "snag"- sometimes the fractions are
served up for a bit, and after an interval of peace and
pleasantness, two or three twenty-ninths arrive all
together, glarying and growling at us all as though we
could help it! There are two sorts of snag - the active
and the passive. The active growls all the time, being
no respecter of persons; the passive smirks smugly when
one is there, and conducts insurrectional propaganda
meetings when one isn't. I need not tell you which
variety is the lesser of the two evils - at least we know
where we are with the active gentlemen.........No Tommy
except in a degenerate ward, could swear unrestricted
before a sister; no Tommy, in any but an exceptional
ward, could retale, without considerable comment and
censure, anything in a sister's presence which savoured
of the unfit. In my ward at the present time I have about
three lads who, I know, grizzle and complain at anything
and everything we do. If I buy them cigarettes at the
 

 41.
canteen I am trying to bribe them; if I don't, I should -
haven't I got plenty of money? But there are, thank
goodness, so many cheery friendly souls to make up for
them that the mutterings are but rarely remembered, and
more rarely permitted to reach my ears..........
Smile, and the Tommy works with you, and without being asked to,
but scowl and you'll work along alone (and serve your
right too.) They are the cheriest, most willing helpers
in the world. Some of them may do it from a sense of
duty, some with a hope of reward in due season.....but the
majority appear to work from sheer good fellowship, not
only because they feel it's up to them, to do a little,
but very largely because they like to do it, providing
only that they are not growled at if they don't.......... 
Night duty.
7/3/18.
...... The subject of smoking is of never failing
interest to both the Tommy and the Heads. Officially
they are not permitted to smoke in the wards; actually
someone is always doing it. No amount of threatening
supervision, or deprivation seems to do anything towards
lessening the prevelence of the onnoxious weed; we do
our best because we are told to, but the position is
hopeless, from the jump off.............
Each ward has so many ventilators in its roof: I think it's
four. These are canvas flaps, which are so fixed that they
can be raised or lowered by long cords, attached to the
tent poles, thus allowing free currents of air to enter
from the outer world via the air space in between the two
canvas roofs - the roof and the lining. Unfortunately, the
cords are so tremendously popular that they are rarely
there at all. The wherewithal for tying up bundles,
bedding, and the like on moving days is scarce indeed - 
but less scarce than it would be were it not for these
ventilator cords. We are forever replacing them, each
time, sooner or later, they vanish as before. Consequently

there is frequently only one ventilator which will open in
a whole ward, sometimes, alas, none at all........It is
so long since I started off to tell you of the round I had
just done, that it will be soon time for another one......
Enroute, I handed out to a few unhappy malarials their
four hourly doses of dreadfulness. It takes a hard heart
the boys tell me, "to make a chap out of a real good
dream to give him that stuff"......There is something so
extra specially dreadful about quinine in the middle of
the night.......even though the dose is always followed
by a small portion of chocolate when funds permit, which
they are generally encouraged to do..........
Only the sickest of the malarials are wakened for their
treatment, of course. The M.O. who is the soul of
consideration and conscientiousness lets them off their
nocturnal doses as soon as he feels he can, and don't
they bless him for a good night's rest. I've just had
a visit from the orderly in 7. He reports that he's
done a round himself, and that all is well.......
The hot cocoa p.r.n has been supplemented most ably by a
few of Arnott's rice biscuits, the nicest we've had for
many a day. We get them at the canteens, in paper packets,
at about one franc or something, a packet....they are such a
treat after practically unsweetened English biscuits.....
Unfortunately the supply of Australian goods is always
short and uncertain - it may be some time before the
 

42.
canteens get in another lot.......
There are three things at least which meet with universal
approval during the winter months, whatever we may disagree
upon; letters from home, meal times, and bed. It looks
a bit crude, I know, on paper, but it doesn't feel that
way when one is half frozen, blue with  the cold, buffeted
to weariness by a bitter, icy wind, when a stone or so of
mud clings loyally to each gum boot, and ones skirts flop
about ones knees when a thick border of chocolate clay,
when there was a yesterday just like today, and there will
be a tomorrow precisely similar; and there isn't a clean
dress to put on - and goodness knows when we shall be able to
do any washing..........
Good Friday,
29/3/1918.
......Night duty proceeds in the usual manner. Life
resolves itself pretty completely into a mere matter of
going to bed in the morning, and getting up again in the
evening to come on duty again. The days are certainly
drawing out, but, as the second month on nights finds
one invariably sleepier than the first, we don't get
much benefit out of the longer afternoons. There are
great rumours of our approaching departure for the hills,
for the months of summer; we are forever on the move, it
seems! So of course that will mean a change of duty for
us soon; not that we want to come back on day duty
especially - except between the hours of one and three in
the mornings, I never hanker much after day duty.
We are re-pitching camp some miles out on the other side of
the city, nowhere near the hills of last summer. If only
they'd send us right over the seas, and round to France!
We just hate to feel that we're on a side line here, so to
speak, when there is all that work to do over there. It
makes one feel "Sorter horrid and kinder mean" to be so
much out of the heaviest part of it. Of course we're
kept fairly busy here; the boys are always rolling in
from the line. Malaria and dysentery are terrible
scourges among the troops, and of course someone has to
nurse them - we're jolly glad to be able to nurse them
really, they're such plucky old chaps. But it seems
sometimes as if they could surely do with fewer of us,
and ship the rest away to do other work. Praps they will
someday! It's silly to growl anyway.
I still have my three wards, and two orderlies, but alas,
the two orderlies are not the same. 7's cheery guardian
"went sick" as they say here, some ten days ago, and was
despatched to one of the hut hospitals further towards the
bay, and in his place arrived a youth from the cookhouse,
with a wide and instructive knowledge of army cookery.....,
but little nursing experience to stand by him in this hour
of trial..........
Lots of the boys have gone out; and lots have come in.
We miss them dreadfully when they go, some more than others
of course..........
They have just finished a garden in front of the ward door,
with a path running onto the road, made of empty ideal
milk tins, filled with earth and inverted, and placed
level with the surface. The path is eight rows wide and
looks so neat; the tins are an inch or so apart and
spaces being filled with mud, the whole effect is quite
mosaic. And they are champion for the wet weather.
When last I wrote supper was a social affair; now it is a
solitary business. Nowanights each of us taken her own
 

43.

rations from the mess hut to the ward, in any receptacle

she is able to get hold of (mine is a biscuit tin) and
demolishes it in silence and solitude somewhere in the
early a.m. Tonight we had about three ounces of tinned
salmon, and a hunk of bread - it waits on the medicine

chest for my attention and approval.........We are starving
folk these days. I generally go down to Nell's lines once
in the night, or she comes in to visit me (between ourselves
the practice is not popular with the heads, it it's a
long lonely night) but otherwise we see each other and the
other owls only at breakfast and dinner.
Breakfast is a jolly meal at 7.45, when everyone rolls in
weary and well laden with the impediments of the night -
coats, rugs, and "occupations" in suit cases or haversacks.
We all toast at the brazier when it's there, and settle
down straightway to porridge and bacon if it isn't. And
then off to our various tents to dawdle away an hour or so
in the old, old foolish delightful manner of night people
all the world over............
Today is Easter Sunday. I am writing this after church and
before retiring. It is a perfect morning, sunny and
peaceful after all our boisterious and snowy ones. It was a
great service. The Presbyterian padre is a live wire, and
the singing was fine. There are never many of the lads
there in the mornings, as the visits of the medical officers
to the wards prevents their getting away early enough.
However there were a good number there this morning - at
half past nine. On Good Friday there were only three of
us to the 9.30 service.
We have had "morning tea" in the mess hut, with the mess
sister and her assistants, and now it is well on to eleven
o'clock..........
15/4/18
.......The  wards closed last week, all the boys being
transferred to other hospitals until our new home is
ready and we can take them in again. When they will come
back to us full of tales about the wonders of the huts,
looking scornfully at our old marquees weather worn.......
Most of the lads went straight off to the receiving
hospital, and those we shall no doubt meet again very
shortly, but several batches tied up their possessions and
donned their khaki and went of over the seas to Malta
hospitals, that being one step nearer home. Crowds of
our boys have gone from time to time to Malta, some we have
missed considerably.......
As soon as the patients departed we set to work to the
closing up of the wards. It looks simple on paper, but
is anything but that. The fussations and dashings about,
the counting of equipment, and endless explanations
concerning the things we haven't got....We spent all one
day counting bowls and diet tins and things, rolling
blankets, scrubbing lockers, and ridding ourselves, by
various methods, of buckshee articles of all kinds.......
Nothing is stolen in the army; it is "bucksheed" or "won"
or scrounged, and concerning the annexation of army goods
from the various departments or stores there is, as a rule,
no such thing as a conscience. Amongst the sisters this
promiscuous" winning" is not so far prevalent. No doubt
it will develop when we are longer in the service.......
Since the wards were closed, and the last pillow case
counted and handed in to the exhausted linen-storesman, we
have had a week of gloriously sunny and gloriously lazy
days. We've gone out a good deal, been into Salonique
 

44.

several times - mostly on our wits, as we say when we get
off without definite transport but with every hope of
being able to persuade some motor lorry to pick us up -
have interviewed dressmakers and things, sewed a good
deal, written piles of long neglected letters and talked
much.
We rise at our leisure, breakfasting all together at
8.30, lunch all together at 12.30 and dine all together
half past six. In the intervals we do much what we like.
For the last two days Nell and I have been assisting in
the mess. We served out the breakfast and with many
qualms about the supply being equal to the demand. I dished
the porridge out in great style just making the
provided amount do, and no more (there was none left for
us two, but, as porridge of the army pattern has never
been a special mania of ours, we didn't mind much); and
Nell wacked out the bacon and eggs - special ration for
Sunday morning - but not every Sunday - in record time.
Subsequently we dusted the mess ironed the d'oyleys for
the swank afternoon tea, fixed up the breakfasts of two
sisters who were confined to their tents with colds, and
set off about 10 a.m. on a shopping expedition to the
city. Yes, Sunday and all.
There was to be a party in the mess that evening, and we
were required to get what fish, fruit, and flowers were
needed, if such could be got in the city..........
On hearing that wer were due to be into the quarters
again in time to serve lunch, our friend whirled us thence
in record time.....
We had just time to dash down to our tent and get caped
and capped before lunch, appearing just in time to dish
out the great feast to the multitudes - some ordeal,
believe us, especially when the plates of the early
table come back for second helpings before the last
tables are served. We're always hungry ourselves that we
did our best to satisfy all demands, but I am afraid I
shouldn't be inclined to do it for ever.
The afternoon tea sandwiches that afternoon were dreams
of delight. Never were ham pate sandwiches made with
such a small proportion of bread and a large one of
butter and paste.....
In the afternoon an R.F.A. officer came to take us out
to explore the Turkish quarters in the higher part of the
city. We are not supposed to go there really, and not
on any account without an escort, but we just thought we'd
like to go, and he said he'd be highly delighted to take
us........
Several days ago the inhabitants of the lower tents in
our quarters moved up to the upper lines, by request.
Hence Nell and I shall dwell right up near the mess hut
now, which is handy when one sleeps in, and amidst the
awfullest pile of luggage you ever did see. There are
six of us in the tent, six of us and our kits......
Word has been whispered that we move shortly up into the
mess hut, so that these tents also, may be taken away.
I'm not sure that I ever explained the mess hut. When
first we came here, if you remember, we had a large tent
for mess-room, as we had at the old 66th. It was
considered hardly adequate for the months of winter, and
forthwith a

45.

mess hut was erected, close by. It is a splendid
building - one part is preserved as a sitting room, and 

contains many of the treasures of our Indian unit - girls
who came out to Salonique after some time in India - 
kindly lent for decorative purposes.
The other half is the mess proper, connected with the
kitchen and pantries, and very cosy it is, especially
when one comes in half frozen from the outer world; from
battling with the wind or dodging the draughts in ones
tent. Throughout the winter we have had, on the worst
days, either kerosene heaters (oil stoves, as we call them
here), or charcoal braziers, as warming apparatus.........
Lately we have had a bit of trouble with the countrysiders,
anent our property - now theirs. From time to time various
little things have disappeared from this tent or that tent
rope; everybody was a bit concerned, but only that and
nothing more. Well, the climax came about three weeks ago.
Three night sisters came off duty in the morning to find
that their tent, the end one in the bottom line, and next
door to ours, had been systematically raided, everything
of interest being carted away. One girls cabin trunk had
been emptied, the few things the invaders didn't want
scattered about the tent; all lost money, and clothes;
and one of them lost her precious camera, and accessories.
....There was great excitement, of course, and much
enquiry and discussion. Traces of the flight were
discovered across the fields; parts of the cut suit cases
were picked up and identified, but nothing further was

found. A few days later we learnt that the robberies had
been fairly general, occuring at several of the hospitals
around within a few nights of our tragedy, and later still,
that some at least of the light fingered customers had
been caught.
It appears that, over at one of the hut hospitals, one of 

the sisters (English) noticed a sister in her tent who
didn't look exactly dinkum, although rigged up in uniform
as usual. On closer investigation the "sister" turned
out to be a Greek boy dressed up. Tableau. On being
hauled up and threatened with annihilation, he told the
names and addresses of the others with the satisfactory
result that they were all caught. We hope there are no
more gangs buzzing about.
It all happened, of course, before we came off night duty,
and consequently we spent many anxious moments during the
nights wondering whether our priceless possessions - 
priceless here because unprocurable - would be scattered
over the landscape in the morning, and visualising our
cabin trunks, turned bottom upwards, and left empty as
poor old Sister's was. I tell you it was worrying.
We considered the advisability of carting our most valued
stuff about with us to and from duty, but owing to lack
oftransport, the scheme fell through! A strong guard was,
of course, put on immediately after the robbery, but, so
great is our faith in the cuteness of Brother Greek (&
his fellows), that even that fact didn't altogether calm
our fears..........
Monday, 22nd April 8 p.m.
Today we all moved up into the mess hut, and dwell, with
surprising ease and amiability, a few inches apart. The
place looks like a barrack room, or, more nearly, a camp
of refugees - Greek for choice. The room is lined with
articles of clothing; coats and hats are hung on every
available projection; boots are everywhere; and disconsolate
sit about about on beds and bundles, looking weary,.....Many of
the girls have already turned in - as one of them very
 

46.
truly remarked, there's more room in ones bed than anywhere
else.
There are twenty-seven of us in the sitting room, and
the remainder, about seventeen, are tucked into the messroom 

proper. The heads are with second lot - first

saloon, we call them; we are steerage.  There isn't much

room.  Each individual has her own bed and bedding -

which includes all the blankets we have not already packed;

you will be prepared to hear that we have lots of blankets.

Also the most priceless of her possession in what is known

to the initiated as "hand luggage". When the stretchers

were placed one beside the other, about three inches apart,

they just about filled the room, with a space of about

three feet between the two rows as a passageway.

Our heavy luggage reposes in a large heap outside the mess,

it's raining...but we hope not piercingly enough to

penetrate through the tarpaulin over the heap. This

afternoon there were scenes of despair and desolation.

Tents were being pulled down over the heads of the

sorrowing inhabitants, who rushed round in various states

of excitement, wildly packing and unpacking and packing

again. Bundles, and boxes, holdalls and cabin trunks,

deck chairs, cupboards, tables, suit cases and kitbags,

were borne out of the ruins by perspiring members of the

long suffering Labour Corps, and dumped down thankfully

on the first vacant spot. Frenzied packers rushed up and

down the lines, imploring someone to pack their boots for 

them in something or other, or begging someone else to

come and stand on their over worked cabin trunk, and has

anyone taken my washing off the ropes? There was a

tremendous demand for ropes and cord, some...

Tuesday night.

There is nowhere to sit except upon our little beds,

and every talks about the weather, and where are we

going next...and there are everlasting interruptions

in the shape of mess meetings, or meals, or someone 

walking over one to get to her bed.

All our meals are ambulatory things at present. The

tables have all departed for the new home. Anyway, there

wouldn't have been any room for them with us and our beds.

The free and easy method is a pleasant change from the

rigidity of mess. In the morning, someone hands round

the forks and spoons; willing hands distribute the plates

of porridge, more them carry round the trays with the

"tea apparatus" upon them; the while the remainder of

the "troops" sit on their beds, or wander about, visiting

their friends, with their drinks (or eats) in their hands.

We take it in turns to wait, of course, and also to wash up

after the meals, as the poor old orderlies are up to their

eyebrows in packing equipment, and assisting with heavy

luggage. Nell and I have spent a good deal of time in the 

mess, doing "fatigues". We were told off to do two

Sundays therein, and managed to get through both without

mishap.  As compensation, we suppose, for the twice

running Sunday business, we were told that we had been

chosen because it was the busy day........

It is always possible to scrounge widely and well in the

mess but don't tell the home sister I said so.