The Last Lady from Hell (46 page)

“And you, young Macdonald, I see you’re wounded. Not a blighty, I take it.”

“No such luck,” I said. “I’ll be good as new and piping in no time.”

“Now where’s my old pal Sean?” Terry asked, although I suspect he somehow sensed the answer. Bill and I looked at each other with sad eyes to see who would break the bad news to our friend.

Bill cleared his throat, something that so many people do when they are about to deliver sad news. “I’m afraid that we have lost our chum on day one.”

“What? What do you mean?” Terry knew exactly what Bill was saying; he just didn’t want to grasp a hold of the idea yet.

“He went back to retrieve his pipes when we were pulling back,” Bill continued. “We found him later that night in a crump hole clinging to his pipes, barely alive. We got him back to the aid station but, he died shortly thereafter.”

“He was a fine piper and a good friend,” Terry said. He reached into his tunic and produced a flask. “Here’s to our old chum, may he rest in peace and pipe us through the pearly gates when our time comes.”

We all drank to the toast and reflected on our friend for several moments.

“We had a tough go the first day,” I said “The 36th suffered five thousand casualties – almost half its men. Is this your group?”

“No,” Terry replied solemnly. He explained that his regiment was all but wiped out so senselessly in a matter of minutes.

We had all seen the horrors of war and the slaughter of the battlefield and were different now. Changed men that now knew that this was no great adventure. We also realized that we couldn’t run away, we had to see this thing through – not for some lofty ideal or love of country, but for our friends who lay in the battlefield.

The crowd of Scotts were getting louder and louder, chanting “Piper! Piper!” Terry hopped up on the stage and held up his hand.

“Gentleman, we have the possibility of being treated to another piper and a drummer if they can be convinced properly.”

The men roared to life hooting, yelling and whistling. We couldn’t say no. Despite the pain from my wound, for the next thirty minutes
we entertained the troops as they coaxed us on, neither they, nor we, thought about the war for that half hour.

THE 5TH CANADIAN STATIONARY HOSPITAL, JULY 1ST (09:00HRS)

B
y 09:00 the influx of injured was so steady and massive that the personnel were becoming overwhelmed. The orderlies stared out at the line of ambulances clogging the road and searching for an end. There was none to be seen. In the past, when there were assaults, the hospital always received waves of injured with lulls in between. This was different.

Dan McKee wheeled his chair over to the opened door and looked out at the buzz of activity outside. Sheila rushed past.

“Hey, toots!” Dan yelled. “What’s cooking?”

“Oh, my god,” Sheila spoke quickly. “This is horrible. I’ve never seen so many incoming at such a steady rate. We’re already swamped!” She was gone before her words had faded.

Dan’s hands grabbed the wheels of his chair, his knuckles white. He needed to do something, but what could he do? His jaw muscles knotted in frustration.

“I can’t just sit here,” Dan said. “This is ridiculous!”

The doctor’s warning flashed through his mind – “Keep your leg elevated, stay off it, and you may just be able to keep it.” Dan grunted angrily.

Perhaps survivor’s guilt was setting in. He wheeled his chair to a different vantage point, his leg sticking straight out like a ramming rod. An orderly scurried by.

“We took your bed, Dan. Sorry, but there was just no choice. Too many new injuries requiring beds now, old man.” The orderly appeared to be from a well-to-do family, judging by his accent.

“No sweat, pal,” Dan replied, faking a smile. Alan Macdonald was standing across the room watching the activity but staying well out of the way so as not to add to the confusion. Dan saw him and yelled out “Hey, Alan come here, eh?”

Alan was getting slowly used to his real name and was recovering more and more of his memory every day. This comfort of knowing his real name and the flashes of personal recognition helped ease the level of frustration that plagues those with memory loss.

“Ya, Dan. What’s up?” Macdonald asked. He had a new found degree of confidence only made possible after he and Dan had spent hours together going over and over what personal information Dan could recollect about him.

“I feel as useless as tits on a bull here, Al! We need to help somehow.”

“Look at us. What can we do?” Alan asked. Dan looked around the ward. There was a closet full of uniforms and hats belonging to wounded officers that had been brought in at one end of the room. They had been cleaned and were awaiting the day that they would be reunited with their owners.

“Wheel me down to that closet,” Dan commanded. Alan did as he was told. “Grab the biggest and most high ranking tunic and hat you can find for me, will you Al, old buddy.”

Alan rifled through the tunics and hats and came up with a very ample jacket and lid.

Four chevrons on the sleeves indicated the rank of Major and the hat had plenty of gold rope and leaves. Dan threw the tunic over his shoulders like a shawl and plopped the cap on his head then looked up at Alan.

“How do I look?” he asked Alan, who only shrugged his shoulders in confusion.

“What this place needs is someone in charge!” Dan said. “It needs someone to direct the flow and bark out orders.”

There was an ornate walking cane in the closet that Dan decided would top off his transformation, people respond better to a man waving a stick.

“Okay James, drive me into the courtyard and I shall create order from chaos. He pointed the stick toward the door and Alan pushed him out.

The noise and confusion were so great that it was no wonder things were getting bogged down. “You there!” Dan pointed his stick at an ambulance driver. “Move that vehicle over! We will be unloading three lorries across now! So form three lanes.”

The driver jumped in his truck and moved it over enough to allow two others to come up alongside. McKee had an analytical mind and enjoyed this type of challenge. “Unload the ambulances three across,” he boldly ordered three Red caps that had been idly standing nearby. “The groups will be staggered five paces apart so as to allow access to all three without interfering with each other!”

The man was fearless in his impersonation and so convincing that these fellows snapped to attention and did as they were told. The orderly that had informed Dan that his bed was taken pushed a wounded man past the new officer on deck and his eyes popped out in astonishment. Major McKee smiled and winked, then continued to orchestrate an efficient offloading of the wounded.

“All those who can walk will walk toward the front of the ambulances parked behind you and then form an orderly line into the ward!” He yelled at the back of the ambulances. These men were used to taking orders and responded to the Major’s orders.

Things were beginning to flow nicely when the orderly who knew Dan returned with Sheila in tow.

“What on earth are you doing? You can be court marshaled for impersonating an officer!” she whispered to him.

“I was cold and couldn’t find a blanket, so I put this on,” he said. “Besides, this place needed someone in charge and there was no one taking up the reins.”

She stood back, looked at him with exasperation and went off to help more wounded.

The orderly looking down said “Sorry, Dan I thought ...”

“Listen young man, I’ll demote you if you try a stunt like that again!”

“But you’re not a real major,” the orderly whined.

“I’ve been a major for years, young man – a major pain in the ass!” As always Dan laughed at his own joke. “Now off with you.”

There was still work to be done. “The five pace areas will be divided into three lanes, the inside closest to the ambulance door will be for stretcher bearers and gurneys,” Dan ordered. “The next lane is for wheelchairs and those needing assistance to walk, and the outside for those who can walk unassisted.”

A small crowd of hospital personnel were taking in all the orders and setting up the new system that this commander was promoting.

Doctor Bradley, Sheila’s friend, was attending to a patient. He had seen Sheila talking to this new take-charge fellow and stopped her.

“Y’all know who that officer is? We’ve needed that kind of discipline and orderly thinking around here for a long time and he looks kinda familiar.”

“Oh, well, I just met him today, doctor,” she replied nervously. “I think he’s from the Canadian forces and is… uh… moving out tomorrow. I don’t think you know him.”

“Well, he’s a welcome addition, even if it’s just for a day! A welcome addition, indeed. We can all learn a lot from that type of leadership,” the doctor said admiringly.

Sheila nodded, her eyebrows raised high in disbelief and relief that Bradley had not recognizing her friend.

Meanwhile, back in the fray, Dan was barking out orders and being pushed by his associate from hot spot to hot spot. The volume had increased, but so had the efficiency, so things were moving far better than they would have had Dan not interfered.

Alan leaned over and spoke into Dan’s ear “I can’t believe the amount of wounded!”

“Yes,” Dan replied. “It’s not a good sign. We tried to warn them but, it appears they didn’t listen. Terry and George got through to command as far as I know.”

A flood of fear pumped through McKee at the thought that they may not have made it. He never even made an effort to find out. A soldier shuffled past them. He had a bewildered look on his face, his arms hung slightly in front of him and his hands were shaking uncontrollably.

“I’ve seen that before – it’s shell shock.” Alan made the statement without thinking. Dan looked up at him, wondering if Alan realized what had just happened.

“Really? Where? Where did you see that?” he pressed. Alan’s expression became strained as he searched for more of his suppressed memory. He didn’t know where.

One of the sunbeam ambulances let out with a backfire as it pulled away from the offloading area. Everyone jumped at the noise except the shell shocked man, who began to walk in a jerky disjointed fashion. His eyes became huge dark holes that displayed total unbridled fear. He began to howl like a cornered dog looking around at every
one but seeing nothing. The entire area stopped, all activity came to a halt.

Doctor Bradley, who was some fifty feet away, looked up from his patient and assessed the scene. “Attend to this fellow, will you?” he asked the nurse next to him. “I’ll be right back.”

He walked toward the howling man standing just six feet away from the wheelchair-bound mock Major. Bradley wound his large right arm back and came across the shell shocked man’s face with a stunning slap that staggered the man. He immediately stopped his howling and coherently looked at Bradley, rubbing his reddened face.

“What was that for?” the now awakened man said.

“I’ll need y’all to go over and join those men in line and quietly wait your turn. Can you do that?” the doctor asked.

“Yes, sir,” the man said sheepishly.

Bradley turned toward the take-charge Major. He wanted to introduce himself. As he and Dan made eye contact, the doctor withdrew his outstretched hand and pondered the imposter for a moment. “I shoulda known you weren’t the real McCoy,” he said in his strong southern accent. “Most officers aren’t so damn organized.” Then he became serious. “You better wrap this thing up, son, before y’all get your backside in a sling.” Bradley walked back to his waiting patient shaking his head.