Free Evie's War by Anna Mackenzie Page A

quite sure I made Lieutenant Wintern’s last days more enjoyable. Still I wonder whether I might have said something that would have better enabled him to see value in the life that remained to him, and thus to fight for that life a little more strongly.
    Sister says that I must set my sorrow and doubt aside, as to cling to it is only railing against God’s wishes. I wonder that God should wish such a terrible toll as this War is taking.
13 March, Deans Park
    Mother had sent a note confirming that Edmund was arrived, but still it was a surprise to see him waiting at the Station. He is changed, being thinner and somehow less frivolous. He tells our parents only the heartiest stories of his training, but has confided to me that the NCOs are terrible bullies and the slightest hint of weakness is sniffed out and vigorously punished. When I asked whether it was like School he answered, rather bleakly, ‘Worse.’ In the face of that I could hardly complain about Sister N, though I did tell him about Lieutenant Wintern. His response was much the same as Sister S’s. I have made him promise to be especially careful and, if he does happen to be injured, to request that he be transferred to 1st Eastern so that I may ensure he gets the very best of care. But far better he is not injured at all.
Sunday 14 March
    I have not kept up with the papers all week, but took the opportunity to do so this morning after Church, and was heartened to read of our great success at Neuve Chapelle, where we have broken through the German lines. Edmund is determined to get across the Channel as soon as he can, so that he may play a part in bringing this dreadful War to a close. As he will be gone before his birthday on Friday, Mother arranged a special tea to mark his attaining his majority — of course this also means she can have no complaint about his decision to join up, though I doubt she sees it that way!
15 March, 1st Eastern
    I grew a little tearful bidding farewell to my brother. I do hope he has his wish and arrives in time to join the battle, but also that he remains safe, God willing.
16 March
    Winifred was up all night, the price of our Great Victory now arriving at our doors.
18 March
    I realise now how little I knew before: a tidily bandaged wound, even something so bad as an amputated limb, is quite a different matter to a wound that is untreated and suppurating. The men arrive with the most primitive of dressings, blood-soaked and festering, themselves unwashed and reeking of mud and decay. And they are exhausted. Most sleep even when they are being treated — which is perhaps for the best, given all that must be done.
    We were so overwhelmed by the numbers arriving that Matron assigned me to assisting with new patients, mainly washing and changing them into pyjamas and settling them into bed. Their eyes are horrifying: huge and shadowed and desperate. I see them in my sleep.
19 March, Deans Park
    Matron refused my offer to work through the weekend, saying we all need time to recoup our strength and giving me an encouraging nod, as if I had turned in a particularly satisfactory Latin translation. I do not know whether to feel disappointed or relieved.
20 March
    Uncle Aubrey says the Great Advance has stalled, but that it was worthwhile in that it showed we will not give up. I wonder will they?
Sunday 21 March
    Millicent and Eugenie, sweet girls, took me to see the first bluebells. The wood was truly lovely; I had not realised how tattered my spirits had become.
23 March, 1st Eastern
    Rush unabated. I wonder how long we can keep it up.
24 March
    Sister has gone on leave. Her brother has been killed in France.
27 March, Deans Park
    Letters awaited on arrival at Deans Park: from Mr Lindsay, Ada and Lieutenant Wintern’s father, to whom I had written to express my deepest sympathy and to report how brave and honourable a man their son had shown himself. I am touched that Colonel Wintern troubled to reply, and