“Short of actually going to bed with [the men], there was
hardly an intimate service that I did not perform for one or another in the
course of four years,” wrote Vera Brittain, one of the most renowned Voluntary
Aid Detachment (VAD) nurses of the First World War, in Testament of Youth. Like
Vera, VADs were generally from genteel, sheltered, and chaperoned backgrounds,
because only people of means could afford to pay for the courses and work for
free.
Lady Diana Manners, 1916 - photo by E.O. Hoppe |
Some
were aristocrats, like Lady Diana Manners – reputedly the most beautiful woman
in England and expected to marry the Prince of Wales. Her mother was opposed to
Diana’s becoming a VAD, and “explained in words suitable to my innocent ears
that wounded soldiers, so long starved of women, inflamed with wine and battle,
ravish and leave half-dead the young nurses who wish only to tend them.” The
Duchess gave in, but “knew, as I did, that my emancipation was at hand,” Diana
says in her memoir, The Rainbow Comes and Goes, and admits, “I seemed to have done
nothing practical in all my twenty years.” Nursing plunged her and other young
women into a life-altering adventure.
Growing up with servants, many of these girls had never had
to wash a plate or boil an egg. But with only a few weeks of training by St.
John Ambulance in First Aid and Home Nursing, women over 20 became qualified to
work under the guidance of professional nurses, who usually resented these
amateur “do-gooders”. Of course, many lied about their age!
While
VADs spent much of their time changing linens, sterilizing equipment, serving
meals, and so forth, they were just as readily asked to hold down the exposed
intestines of a mortally wounded soldier, as was Canadian Doreen Gery on her
first day in a British military hospital. Her protest to the Nursing Sister
that she would rather die than do that, earned the retort, “Well, die then!
You’re no good to me if you can’t do the work!” Like other VADs, Doreen
valiantly got on with the job. Giving up was considered the equivalent of
cowardice in a soldier.
In
makeshift hospital cities of tents or wooden huts near the battlefields there
was no running water, rats scurried about under the beds, and the tents
sometimes collapsed in fierce gales that howled off the English Channel during
two of the coldest winters in living memory. Wounded often streamed into these
base hospitals filthy and crawling with lice. One VAD, after two weeks of
unending work, discovered that she had “collected some of the notorious
‘grey-backs’… when I was brushing my hair, and I was so exhausted that I just
collapsed in tears. It seemed the last straw.”
VADs
who later became famous included American aviatrix Amelia Earhart, who worked
at the Spadina Military Hospital in Toronto, and Agatha Christie, who dispensed
drugs, thus learning about poisons, which she later used in writing her
mysteries.
In ElusiveDawn, one of my intrepid characters becomes a VAD, and sees service in
England and France, as did 500 other Canadian women.
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