World War One Survivor Essay, Research Paper

Imagine me assisting the war effort.Tending to those back from the war.The notice said, & # 8221 ; Look after our soldiers & # 8221 ; , but as an waxy kid, I belived what the image showed

The mark was up, bold and proud on St Mary & # 8217 ; s Hospital wall.The image showed a immature nurse assisting a smiling soldier in a warm cozy room.Thebig, bold, black letters shouted, & # 8221 ; Help look after our soldiers.Enroll in the war attempt today! & # 8221 ; .All I wanted to make was assist those smiling soldiers, merely like in the picture.So I went to the infirmary and signed up.The following twenty-four hours, Mum took me back to St Mary & # 8217 ; s where I recived my new uniform, a superb white uniform, finished off with pearly white buttons, a brace of white places and my name badge, Victoria James boldly placed.It looked like an interloper in my sea of white.

My first hebdomads were quiet because work forces had merely late left their places, so there was non truly much to do.My ward was bright white, complete with white sheets on the clean undisturbed beds.The ward had a strong odor of disenfectant, so strong it gave everyone a headache.All of listened to the radio about the latest disclosures in Germay, France and about all over the universe, and wondered if our loved 1s were still alive.Also, we worried about a sudden rush of soldiers, injured on the forepart line.As the war progressed, so did the decease toll of our patients.The foremost I remember be givening to was a immature adult male, about 20 three old ages old, merely returned from Germany.He was in a bad way.Nothing like what the image had led me to believe.No smiling immature work forces, sword lily to be place had passed through here.Just angry and down work forces, either with fatal or awful hurts or with the knowlage that if

they of all time recovered, they would hold to travel back to their platoon.

The immature adult male & # 8217 ; s name was John Davis, if I recall right, a really plesant man.His right leg had been badly injured and so had his left arm.I was his nurse until his leg was amputated and he went home.I ne’er saw him once more.

Soon I regreted fall ining the war effort.The posting had filled me with fals images, made me believe that I would be a & # 8217 ; smiling nurse & # 8217 ; excessively, but seeing all these soldiers made me really unhappy.The physicians were in panic and many nurses had left, unable to manage the horror infront of them.Their narratives of panic had shocked them.The war grew and grew.The patients kept on coming to us, many on the threshold of decease, imploring us to salvage them.The households grieved ovr their loved 1s, sometimes thanking us for our attempts, sometimes faulting us for non assisting plenty.

One forenoon, I went to my ward, and at that place I was introduced to Gerald Williams.Another immature adult male sent place from the forepart in France.He had some hurts but his shell-shock was awful.I was assigned to be Geralds & # 8217 ; nurse, and I cared for him as best I could.Although it was hard, I had to persist.First I tended to his wounds.He had a disjointed shoulder, deep cuts all over his organic structure and some fingeres losing due to an explosion.I tended to all of these but his shell-shock was the most severe.He didn & # 8217 ; t want the visible radiation off at dark, as it reminded him of dark patrols, he didnt & # 8217 ; like loud noises, which startled him and reminded him of of the huge noise in the trenches in France.I tended to himevery twenty-four hours for every bit long as I could.His hurts had shortly healed but the shell-shock was still an interloper in his mind.He was despairing to see his household but no one knew them of could happen