Free For King and Country by Annie Wilkinson

only she’d remembered
to tell Dr Campbell that Lieutenant Raynor had been complaining of pains in his neck and back. She hesitated, and almost turned back, but the thought of Dunkley’s face deterred her. Never
mind, Raynor’s pains were probably from being stuck in bed a lot of the time, and having to support that sling. She’d tell him to mention it himself during the next doctor’s
round.
    She was at the far end of the ward when Dunkley caught up with her and loomed so close and with such violence in her eyes that Sally recoiled. ‘Don’t you know there’s a rule
against familiarity with the doctors, Nurse Wilde?’ she almost spat. ‘See that it doesn’t happen again, or Matron will get to know, and you’ll be down the drive, with your
suitcase.’
    She flounced towards the stripped bed, and after a stunned moment Sally followed with the bedding.

Chapter Four
    T he ward was understaffed as usual, and as usual there was no shortage of work to be done. Sally went to the sluice and quickly set up a bathing
trolley. She’d been a bit apprehensive about bed baths, and had been relieved on finding them a thoroughly decent business. Let a man wash his own face, neck and arms, then wash chest, back
and legs for him, and then cheerily hand the flannel back to him and hold the sheet up like a tent over him, concealing him from your view while he did ‘round the Middle East’ himself.
Everything neatly accomplished, and both parties spared any embarrassment, but then, she hadn’t yet had to bath anyone with injuries like Lieutenant Raynor’s.
    With the other probationer to help, she should have at least a couple of patients bathed before the theatre list started at ten o’clock. They set to with a will and got further than they
anticipated, abandoning the bathing trolley by David Jones’ bed after the first patient had been taken to theatre and the orderly had wheeled in the mid-morning drinks. Sally went to get a
cup of cocoa for Jones.
    ‘Wake up, Lieutenant Jones.’
    He drowsily reached up a hand for the monkey bar and pulled, but to no purpose. ‘I’ve no strength today, angel,’ he sighed.
    ‘Nurse, not angel,’ Sally whispered, and caught Crump’s eye. ‘Come and help me, Nurse.’ Second Lieutenant Jones gave a feeble laugh as they joined hands under his
thighs and hoisted him into a sitting position, and then he broke out into a cold sweat. The colour drained from his cheeks, and he began to gasp for air.
    ‘All right? All right, David?’ Whether he heard her Sally couldn’t tell, but he didn’t answer. ‘Fetch Sister. Quick,’ she ordered, and Nurse Crump bolted for
the office. Sally curled her fingers round David’s wrist and pressed in the tips in the hollow above his thumb. His pulse was rapid, and she tried to count it while watching his struggles for
breath.
    Sister arrived, took one look at him, and went to telephone the houseman. Sally pulled the screens across the bed space, and she and the probationer stood helplessly by as their patient lost all
awareness of his surroundings.
    ‘I’ve sent for the porter, as well,’ Sister told them, on her return. ‘We’ll get him moved into the room next to my office.’
    As soon as they’d transferred him Sally helped Sister Davies to prop him with pillows to sit him up, as far as could be managed with his leg attached to the weights. All afternoon,
whenever she was in his room or near it, Sally listened with dread to a strange alteration in the rhythm of his breathing: noisy, deep and rapid for a minute or two, then slower and more shallow,
until it stopped altogether for what seemed an age. Then he seemed to suck all the air in the room into his lungs in a deep and noisy draught, and the cycle repeated itself – as if he kept
forgetting to breathe until death almost claimed him, and then he suddenly remembered, and evaded it.
    She was in David’s room with Sister when Dr Campbell walked wearily onto the ward after