Free The Great Silence by Juliet Nicolson Page B

considered silence to be the most prudent response. But deep within the silent recesses of her private sitting room at Hever Castle in Kent was a secret. Here in the place where Anne Boleyn had loved and lost Henry VIII, the lovely and romantic place that her new husband had inherited on his father’s death, Violet had prised open a brick or two and within the cavity behind had placed her favourite photographs, a lock of hair, the cufflinks and the medals that had belonged to the man she would always love best. After the war was over, being with their two children and holding these precious things lessened the loneliness that still gripped her.
    In the weeks leading up to the first peaceful Christmas for four years, advertisements began to appear suggesting presents that would not have found a place in leisure magazines before the war. In many houses that Christmas, furniture was moved out of the way to make room for spanking new cane wheelchairs. The
Illustrated London News
recommended an ingenious gadget for individuals who had lost their arms. By the manipulation of a flat lever with two stockinged feet, a plate balanced on top of the lever could be made to rise towards the armless diner’s mouth. Forks and spoons could be made to levitate towards the mouth in a similar way. On 13 December the same magazine was promoting an intriguing choice of gift in the Ellieson Carrier Electric Invalid’s Carriage, a contraption that ‘heralds a new era’. The Ellieson, capable of speeds of up to five miles per hour, afforded the disabled person the freedom from nurse, attendant or bath-chair man as well as an opportunity to breathe in fresh air. These self-propelling invalid chairs were in plentiful supply from Garrould’s, the medical supplies store, and a photograph in the
Daily Sketch
on 17 December showed a charming model well wrapped up, but smiling broadly as she demonstrated the benefits of the machine.
     
    But the soldier’s disability pension was not enough to keep a family in rent, food and clothing, let alone allowing anything over for Christmas presents. For the one and a half million men who emerged from the war with severe physical injury, there was a clear financialdemarcation in the rate of official compensation offered by the Government. Since the beginning of the war over 41,000 men had lost at least one limb. The severest bodily war wounds, the loss of a full right arm from the shoulder downwards, was worth sixteen shillings a week. Fourteen shillings were awarded if the arm was missing from below the shoulder but above the elbow, and then the rate dropped to eleven shillings and sixpence for limbs missing from below the elbow. The left arm however merited a shilling less with each specific affected joint. Allowances stopped at anything above the neckline.
    Priority was given to the wounded men for whom surgical help could be provided. The Princess Louise Scottish Hospital for Homeless Soldiers and Sailors at Erskine in Renfrewshire treated one in five of the disabled veterans. The demand was so high that workers from the Clyde-side shipyards with their knowledge of steel and joints were recruited to make false arms and legs. Civilians had to wait their turn. Emily Brooker, mother of ten children, and stretched beyond both her means and energy, developed a terrible cyst in her eye, which caused so much pain that her entire eye had to be removed. The black patch that she wore over the Samson-like hole in her face was itself unsightly but the waiting list for artificial eyes was confined to wounded soldiers. As a temporary measure Emily was advised to place a white shell in the socket that drew more gasps than the black patch. When the hospital finally loaned her a replacement eye for the sum of £3, it did not fit properly. On the bus journey back home to Brighton, with the sightless bauble in position, Emily suddenly sneezed and out popped the new eye to the consternation of the conductor. Within a day Emily