'Stretcher-bearers': (12) Dating Agency and Transfer

Dating Agency and Transfer

The day after the first casualties were admitted Dick Burrow and I were summoned to the hospital office and entrusted with a Mark II switchboard "because you can speak French".
We took a couple of days to learn how to operate this 10-plug gadget. After a few blunders our job became easy, all too easy. It seemed that we had come hundreds of miles simply to arrange dates between United States flying officers and our nursing sisters, for, although official calls kept us busy in the mornings , the late afternoons and evenings were packed with outside calls to and from United States bases. In addition, American officers would flock into our telephone tent where all communications with the sisters had to be arranged via the exchange.
"Say buddie, would you happen to know if Lewtenant (Sister) Parkinson is on dudy?"
The Americans completely failed to grasp that no British nursing sisters would never deign to associated with their own army's privates.
The Americans kept dropping in.
"I want to speak to Kathleen."
Who on earth was she?
"Will you tell Lewtenant Norris to meet me at the gate at eight thoity?".
That was better. We had a surname at least.
"Where can I park my goddamned Jeep?"
The situation was farcical.
One day a pathetic figure entered the office weeping. She wanted us to telephone the local U.S. aerodrome to find out whether her boy friend had been killed, as was rumoured.
Fortunately, he had landed safely. Out came the sunshine and we all bathed in it.
Soon afternoon calls were officially banned and then sisters would ring through sotto voce from wards, with a "Please will you put me through, just this once?", and sometimes the more ardent, possibly the more brazen, would pay us personal visits, offering cigarettes as bribes. Dick and I were both non-smokers, but we decided to put through all requests, official or otherwise.
After the first week, I kept a tally of unofficial calls and discovered that 32 different parties were making use of this facility. Certain hard facts began to emerge: Sister J had gone out with three different Americans, Captain Emerson was in great demand and several triangles had already developed.
We had a short black list. upon which Sister Moore appeared because she had been rude to Dick Burrow. Sister Parks was added to the list for being uppish to a ward orderly. We simply told them that they must obtain permission from the matron first.
One night I had a major row with the assistant matron for putting through a call to the Sisters' Mess after 9 p.m. She took my name, but no further action resulted, probably because we were on duty 12 hours every day and there were no spare operators.

We had been established about ten days when I asked the RSM (Regimental Sergeant Major) for a transfer to a Field Ambulance, for which I had applied in the first place. He said that the transfer could not be granted, but I guessed that he did not want to be bothered with it, so I waited for another week and then applied in writing direct to the colonel. This bore fruit and I soon learnt that I should be ready to leave the unit the following day for 11 Field Ambulance.
Next morning I was escorted to the colonel to bid farewell and, after waiting nearly an hour, was marched into his presence by the elaborated method of standing at ease, standing to attention, turning right, quick marching, halting, turning left and saluting.
We exchanged very few words and I was driven to the station at 12 noon.
I was very sorry to be losing Dick Burrow after over two years. He would have applied for transfer with me if our last application not been completely ruined when we were sent to a general hospital. I miss him greatly.
At Chateau Dun station we waited until 2 p.m.. for the 12 noon train and then crowded into the cattle truck that had been reserved for us - I say "we" because I soon became part of a military train load returning to units after convalescence.
As usual the train stopped at every station. At one I filled my water bottle. At another I bought some black coffee which bolstered morale considerably. The cooks had also given me ample rations, so I had a good meal before trying to sleep on the truck floor.
At all events, I must have slept , because, when I next looked at my watch, it was 6.30 a.m. and the train had stopped. We looked out and found that we had parted company with the engine. Our truck was alone on a side track, some 200 yards from Guelma station, our destination..
So we all decided to make breakfast before departing to our various units. I also had a good wash and then reported to the RTO. (Railway Transport Officer). He promised to make contact with the 11th to arrange transport, but, since he had produced no result by 10 a.m., I called on him again to find that he had forgotten..
This time I remained by his side while he telephoned and was given the answer that I should have to pick up transport at the ADMS (Assistant Director of Medical Services) office three miles away.
Was quite exhausted upon arrival there wearing full marching order and carrying a loaded kit bag., but, after another wait, which gave me time to recover breath, was driven off to the unit in a staff car.

* * *

That was Guelma. Was there two nights.

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One night sleeping on the road.

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One week Hammamet.

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Half day Tunis.

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Miserable manoeuvre in the sandy wilds. No sleep.

* * *
Moved to " Blackpool", near Sousse.

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March to Sousse and back.

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Moved to concentration area for shipment to Sicily

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Sicily off. Moved out of concentration area.

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More marching to God knows where.

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Moved back to concentration area.

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Marching together with infantry.

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Preparations for departure from North Africa

* * *

Leave North Africa for Sicily.

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