A Week Later

William wasn’t accustomed to long stretches of idleness.  Now that he was incapacitated, he spent most of his time writing letters or reading books supplied by the Red Cross.  With so much spare time, he found his mind wandering.

On the days he felt well enough, he quizzed the nursing staff and patients in the next beds about various subjects.  He kept a notebook on his bedside locker for recording the answers to his questions and made further notes about things that piqued his curiosity. He looked forward to being able to explore the buildings that housed the hospital.

William updated his diary most days with brief notes.  Some days he simply wrote, “Still in 14th AGH!” which was more an act of frustration than a record. He had just finished such an entry when he saw Colonel Wilson approach his bed.

Colonel Lachlan Wilson

“Colonel. Twice in one week,” William greeted his friend while securing the leather flap of his diary.

“Just a quick visit. Who’s the lady?” The Colonel raised his eyebrows at the vase of flowers on the bedside locker.

“Captain Handley, if you must know.”

The Colonel grinned.  “Of course.”

 “I haven’t been short of visitors. Lieutenant Land brought in receipts for my mess account.  I need to repay Captain Robertson.  He kindly paid it for me.”

“That’s jolly good of him,” the Colonel replied and pointed to the end of the bed.  “May I?”

 “Please,” William replied.

 “So, how are you feeling?” The Colonel enquired as he sat, holding his cap on his lap.

 “Better than the last time I saw you,” William admitted.

“Yes, you took a nasty turn.”

“And another the following day.”

The Colonel’s smile faded as he nodded, listening to William, noting the pallor of his face. Even his voice lacked its usual strength.

“I felt queer for most of that day.  I still feel very tired.”

“Well rest while you can.”

“That is all I can do.  Doctor’s orders,” William shrugged.

“Good.  Listen to those who know best. Before long, you’ll be back in the saddle.” The Colonel stood to leave.

“I’m afraid I won’t be back.”

Straightening up, Colonel raised his eyebrows as William continued.

“The doctor has recommended a trip home. For six months recuperation.”

“That’s good news.”

“It is.  But in some ways…” William’s voice trailed off.  He hadn’t fully digested the reality of going home.

The Colonel sat down again.  “Why wouldn’t it be?  You’ve been away from your family since the outset.”

William nodded.  “Three years is a jolly long time.  Home seems so remote. There are times when I have trouble picturing the farm.  Even my sons.  I’m sure they’ve changed in that time.”

“At least you are returning to your wife and children.”

Both men fell quiet.

Finally, the Colonel stood. “So, have they given you a date?”

“No. Not until I’m well enough to travel.”

 “Well I’ll pop in when I can.”

William watched the Colonel disappear down the long aisle of the ward.  He felt a tightness in his stomach.  Going home seemed like venturing into the unknown.  For many who occupied beds around him, it would be a blessing.  The war interrupted their normal lives.  For himself, the war was an extension of himself, of his 20 plus years of training.  On the positive side, he thought, “it is only for six months.”

Monday Musings From The Writer’s Desk

Dear Family, Friends and Followers

I am glad to announce that I am back at the helm and endeavour to continue the story of my Great Grandfather, William Lyons.  Life has a way of getting in the way sometimes, but  the pull of his story is greater than anything that stands in my way.

From the time I began to write the story, it has taken an  entirely different path than the straight narrative I intended.  Without the assistance and support of my fellow members of the Family History Writing Circle, I might not have reached this point.  I must also thank Lynn Palermo, our teacher and mentor.  She has provided all of us with the tools to breathe life into our ancestors.

Research has also been the key to this story.  For the instalment I have just posted, I spent endless hours researching the 14th AGH Abbassia.  Fortunately, there are records in the Government archives, outlining the number of patients and staff, treatments used, and methods for disinfecting.  It is difficult for us to envisage the conditions in those hospitals.  The heat would have been appalling, along with mosquitoes that apparently were a nuisance at dusk.  No wonder malaria was rife.

The scenes I write are a combination of my research, William’s diary entries and my imagination.  There’s no living persons who can verify what exactly took place more than 100 years ago.  Some of the dialogue I have added is based on diary entries, but mostly a fictional account of what might have transpired.  I would love to sit down with William and talk about those times, but sadly that is impossible.  I’m sure he won’t mind my use of creative license as long as the underlying story is the truth.

Finally, I thank all of you who have followed William’s story.

14TH AUSTRALIAN GENERAL HOSPITAL, ABBASSIA, CAIRO

September 1917

Propped up on a pillow, William tried to focus on Cis’ letter.  He had read it two or three times already, but it helped pass the time of day.

Heat, infused with chlorine, coal tar and sweaty bodies, hung like an invisible fog within the yellow walls of the ward.  If only I could take a walk.  Anything to escape this intoxicating air, he thought, using his shirt collar to stem the sweat that dribbled down his stubbled face.  Reaching for his glass, he took a sip of water, then another, knowing each drop would soon seep from his pores again.

Replacing the glass on his bedside locker, William slumped back against his pillow as the haunting notes of afternoon prayers began to filter through the open windows.  He found the ward more restful in the afternoons, although never completely quiet. A constant stream of staff ferried bedpans or pails filled with discarded bandages back and forth along the aisles that separated the endless rows of beds. More than 1100 patients overfilled the hospital with nurses working 18-hour days to keep up.

14th AGH Abbassia (https://birtwistlewiki.com.au/wiki/14th_Australian_General_Hospital)

William felt too ill to care about his surroundings when he arrived aboard the hospital train on 25^th August.  He surrendered his life to an orderly who wheeled him straight to the fever ward.  Nursing staff kept his bed packed with ice, wrapped in oil cloth, to lower his temperature.  He slept very little during those first nights: either, because of his own condition, or due to the groans of those around him.

An Officers’ ward, 14th AGH Abbassia.

A constant stream of visitors kept his spirits up, despite his lack of energy.  After a few days, he attempted his first shower bath.  Even though it took some effort on his part, he preferred a shower to a bed bath.  That afternoon William felt dizzy and disorientated.  The following day, he suffered another turn and took a few hours to recover.  His blood pressure was weak, so staff have kept him under close observation.

“Oh, to be idle,” William sighed, lifting his eyes from the letter.

A tea trolley rattled nearby, accompanied by the murmur of voices.

“Ahh, it’s that time.”  He placed the letter on his lap, amused at how the sounds of the ward have replaced his wristwatch.

At a side glance, he noticed the tea trolley stopped five or six beds down from his. Resting his eyes, he listened to the hum of prayers still floating in from the mosque.   In his mind, he began to compose a letter to Cis, in reply to her three.  She received an official advice about him being in hospital and sent him a cable voicing her concerns.  I must tell her not to worry. Will send her a cable when I can.

“Captain Lyons.”

William awoke with a start.  The regimental doctor stood at the foot of his bed, holding a chart.

“I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean to startle you.”  The Doctor spoke in a quiet tone.

William straightened up, running his hand through his short damp hair.

“How are you feeling today?”

“Tip top, Doctor,” William replied with a wink.

“You haven’t lost your sense humour, I see.” the Doctor smiled as he scanned William’s chart.  Looking up, he held his stethoscope and said, “Let’s check your heart, shall we?”

The Doctor placed his stethoscope against William’s chest and listened.  He repeated the process several times. Finally, he released the stethoscope and for a moment said nothing as he recorded his findings.

“Any change, Doc?” William sensed the Doctor’s hesitation.

The Doctor replaced the chart at the end of the bed, then stood with folded arms.

“Captain, there is no change.  Your heartbeat is still very faint. Worrying so.”

“Oh.”

“Basically, your body is exhausted.  You need rest.  Weeks, maybe months.  I can’t truthfully say.”

William was hoping for better news.  He couldn’t imagine a lengthy stay in hospital.