1916 Letter 1
Lemnos
Jan. 4th. 1916
Dearest Mother –
I have over and over again resolved to write to you every day but I never seem to manage it.
Last Saturday I got off three or four letters to you by hand to be mailed from London – and hope they all reach you. I also sent all the souvenirs I had collected in the shape of programmes menus etc. – and a Maltese lace hanky – which you can dispose of at your discretion. Personally – I think silk nose doilies are atrocious.
We are all sort of fed up these days the weather is variable – cold one day and quite mild the next. We haven’t many patients and in a quiet roundabout way preparations are being made for a move. I should like to see the show at Helles over but after that, unless this is made a base for Salonika-Lemnos will be a thing of the past.
I have often told Myra your axiom "Leave when the boone's on" and she said just the other day – it was a great pity we couldn’t have left 3 weeks ago. But then Christmas added to our laurels and our big tea the Monday after.
Three weeks ago – the matron was away on leave in Cairo – we all felt much less restrained with her away – not that anyone ever thinks of taking advantage of her absence – but we can’t help feeling free. The Glory were coming around for final good-byes and a week later the Cornwallis – a great many men we knew have been moved to Egypt and among those remaining there is the same vague feeling of unrest that is bothering us, and everyone is feeling bored and a bit stale.
However if we’d left a month ago we’d have missed the Evacuation, which is admitted in the official news to have been "matchless strategy".
Nurses are a peculiar people. Give them more work than they can do and they are amiable and contented though a bit tired – but give them less than they can do and they become bored and fed up and discontented and perpetual chip carriers.
Yesterday I put my self to bed with a cold and have had two beautiful quiet peaceful days; and I don’t think I’ll go on to-morrow either. It is just an ordinary cold but I may as well take care of it as I am not needed on the wards.
My hut was closed two days after Christmas as the patients were being concentrated into as few huts as possible. I was on general relief and my duties were purely nominal for there was really nothing to do.
Last night a parcel mail came in with a book from Holly, two bundles of books from London – which I ordered weeks ago, and heaps of papers and Posts from Papa and Gloves from the Thomsons.
You wouldn’t pity us if you could drop in now. Myra had a headache so instead of going to tea she lay down on my couch and I made tea for us both. The oil stove is going and the hut is so warm and cozy. I have on a pair of pink and white flannel pajamas – my little pink bed jacket – and a wonderful boudoir cap I got in Boulogne – not exactly what you’d imagine on active service – is it?
We are mighty comfortable here and each having a hut to herself has kept us up – we all declare. It is really the first privacy we’ve enjoyed since coming on active service and yet the other huts are so near one never feels lonely.
Sunday Mae, Scoble & I were on the Bleuheim for lunch – but everyone was [mouldy] and it was very quiet and subdued. Everyone is thoroughly sick of the war – and as there is no leave whatever given out here, the men are tired and unhappy. The veils arrived yesterday too and thank you very much. They are so sheer and soft – just what I wanted - also the tan cashmere stockings.
Still no word from Eric but I always think no news means good news. I told you I’d heard from Mrs. Sutherland saying Mrs. Fleming of Ottawa had taken him off to her convalescent home – I am so glad – it will be far better for him than the average military hospital.
And before I forget I want to set your mind at rest concerning our trip up from Alex. All the Sisters were on the Delta – a hospital ship – the officers and men of both units came up the day after us on the Africa. I believe they changed this course to avoid a submarine – but we saw nothing and had a most ordinary, uneventful voyage.
I see Major and Mrs. Gardner are lecturing on the war in France. Mrs. G. was in the Canadian Red Cross Inquiry Office in Boulogne and all she saw of France was from a big motor – but they are the people who talk the most.
It is getting dark now and I will close. With ever so much love to you both I am
Yours always
Helen.
Had a nice letter from Aunt Teddy for Christmas. She seems quite all right again -
H.