It was in North Africa that I made my first acquaintance with the field hospital that was to feature quite largely in my life. The newly created French second Armoured Division was stationed around the Moroccan capital of Rabat. We had been training in the Western edge of the Sahara Desert, learning how to get wounded crew members out of damaged Sherman tanks. This was at last over and we knew that in a few days the whole Division would set off, in a very long convoy, to the Mediterranean coast.
At that time the hospital still only consisted of about twenty United States Army 10 ton trucks, some loaded with piles of canvas, poles and other bits and pieces which had remained untouched and usually unattended while we trained with the tanks. We knew, but only very vaguely, that we would be part of the hospital in some way. We understood that when unpacked and set up for work the hospital would consist of one very large marquee and two smaller ones. There were other tents that would become kitchens, laundry, showers, etc. The trucks containing the marquees and tents were easy to identify, but the remaining trucks were just vehicles very fully loaded with unidentified equipment. The personnel who drove these trucks were American Army transport drivers.
We had several days to wait before starting the long drive to the north and it was suggested that we should get some idea about how to put up, at least one, of the smaller marquees. The idea was that we should put it up one day and take it down the next and repack it in its lorry. I felt from the first that the whole thing was very misguided, but then Pm lazy and not at my best in very hot weather. I think I took against the whole project when I saw the size of the pole of wood that was the central pillar for one of the smaller marquees. It would have made an adequate mast for a fair sized sailing ship!
However, my misgivings were overruled. I was told that there was a very good instruction book covering all the operations required to turn that enormous heap of canvas, poles and ropes into an operating theatre. That bit of information only made my fears the greater.
There was in fact an instruction book and it even had a photograph showing how the so-called "mini-marquee" should look when erected. I noticed that, for the photograph, "the tent" as I shall call it, had been placed on a perfectly level garden lawn. All the pegs had been driven neatly as far as they would go into receptive soil, and I thought with foreboding of the area of Sahara where we were to work. It was rock, sand, hidden scorpion holes and then more rock. t could not think of any area where the ground remained level for more than a yard or two. We had even managed to get a Sherman stuck and that takes some doing.
The tents had been manufactured in California and so the instruction book was in a sort of English. It was not as bad as those supplied with some Japanese manufactured articles, but the writers of our book had lapsed very early on into totally incomprehensible jargon. How, for instance, would you try to identify a "double ended short tensioning strap", or even a "left-handed window opening"? There did not appear to be any windows anyway!
We got everything out of the lorry and laid it all around then tried to do what the book told us. It said that six men could erect the thing in about an hour. There were fifteen of us and three hours later one end did look slightly tent-like, That end was the work of two of us who seemed to know more about tents than the rest. By a process of elimination those two slowly took over and as darkness approached I was asked to walk inside (I was officially in charge of this shambolic exercise). I did walk in with some trepidation, and sure enough it was like being in a marquee. With a little imagination one could see the vicar officially declaring the flower show open!!
It was now quite dark so we decided to leave well alone to see if it could stand all night. We would start to dismantle and repack it in its lorry in the morning. In the bright light of day it looked rather far removed from the picture in the book. There seemed to be more of the thing to one side of the centre pole than the other. I then exercised my skill at organising disaster and decreed that it should be dismantled immediately before it actually fell down. I just about got out in time and escaped becoming just one more bump in the vast heaps of canvas on the floor. I made a quick head count and found with relief that everyone was outside and seemed to be making good progress in stuffing it all back into the lorry.
This was rather more difficult than we had imagined. By about tea-time we had used up all the space in the lorry but there were still bits and pieces lying about. All the other lorries had neat black tarpaulin covers stretched tautly from side to side. Ours was going to have a few bumps in it! As it turned out it looked like a lorry transporting a fairly large hill. The driver seemed to be very unobservant or was keen to make it clear that he was a driver and not in the least interested in what he was transporting. We told ourselves that it would settle down after a few days driving and waved goodbye as it disappeared in the usual clouds of dust. That was the last time I saw the Field Hospital until it turned up in France fully operational as the destination to which we delivered casualties after our first day in action.
For some strange American Army reason, it was now F.H.31 and it did consist of one large marquee and two smaller ones, both appearing to be perfectly erected, so we must have got it all into its lorry.
Much later I learnt that the Americans had decided that the French were never going to staff F.H.31. This was made impossible by the cronic shortage of personnel in the Division both medical, including nurses, and the numerous odd-job men who were essential for operating a mobile hospital. We were already desperately short of doctors and it was generally accepted that most of those we had were, in fact, vets. This is not quite so odd as it seems owing to the French method of teaching both disciplines together for much longer than in English or American medical schools. In any case it was thought that people who were good with camels were probably just perfect for French soldiers!!
The only area where there was more staff available than was required was in the nursing departments. Here the Americans saw immediately that the French mixture of religious and secular people would never work with American doctors. The outcome was to have quite a lot of male ward orderlies (who were army personnel) and some extremely efficient American Army ward sisters. These girls were all too often rather bored during slack times and quite delighted to find men who spoke English even though they did tend to fall asleep as soon as they sat down.
The kitchen was the other area where some sort of compromise was needed. With the departure of the Germans there was suddenly a super-abundance of very good local food. However, the Yanks did not like it much. It was unfamiliar and French ladies cooked it differently from "Mom at home". Allowing the French cooks to have full reign with the local food for one day solved the problem; the Americans took over with their "K" rations, some of which were very good indeed. Both French ladies and the Yankee cook-house kings could do things with tinned joints of beef or pork that were worth hanging around for. By the time I left there was a surprising amount of co-operation to the great advantage of those of us who continually turned up very hungry at inconvenient times.
But it was in the area of wine that F.H. 31 rose far above all the other F.H.'s in France. The reason for this was quite simple. Nearly all our officers were the younger sons of the great land-owning and wine producing families of metropolitan France. They had been sent to Algeria to manage the family's vineyards there. There was great competition among these families to provide the wine for the day throughout the division. Each unit had a number of Jerry cans lined with enamel so that wine could easily be transported. Usually the wine lorry arrived while we were having our breakfast coffee (heavily laced with brandy, also specially provided). Everybody gathered round and the quality was pronounced upon. I featured in this ritual because, as an Englishman I was considered, correctly, to be totally ignorant on the subject and in need of considerable education. It all made a very pleasant start to the day.
The Field Hospital was, of course, one of the recipients of this vintage handout. I suppose it was considered wise for the Surgeons to know that the day's excellent plonk had been provided by somebody's Great Uncle Jules.
F.H. 31 was outstandingly efficient. This must have been mainly due to the character of the commanding Colonel. He was a surgeon and at times of stress he operated, but his main task was as an administrator. The smooth working of his hospital was to make my job very much easier.
I have mentioned in another story how ambulance drivers have to watch as their casualties are taken away on precious stretchers together with splints, saline drips and blankets. Unless these items can be replaced while you wait the ambulance is useless. F.H. 31's replacement service never let me down. This part of the system was run by the odd-job men who were expected to deal with everything that cropped up, however unexpected. In particular they were brilliant at the dismantlement and re-erection of the marquees and tents for advance or more rarely, retreat when ordered. The odd-job men were a division of the American Army's "Construction Battalion" of "CB's", as they were known. They have appeared in another of my stories as the imperturbable two-man crew of a "Rhino", the enormous raft on which we landed on "Utah" beach during the invasion of German occupied Europe. Finding them running F.H. 31 (apart from the medical work) was a great relief. It went some way to explaining why the marquee that we had tried to erect appeared to be standing faultlessly in spite of our efforts.
I got to know the CB who dealt wit the replacement service very well indeed. He told me they were nearly all seamen and one or two circus employees. The sailors were recruited from the East Coast area of California where sailing ships were still used. Knots, ropes, masts and spars were things with which they were all quite at home. I decided not to mention our efforts to erect the "mini marquee". It might have ruined a very useful relationship.
As we progressed slowly across central France I became a familiar face to most of the staff of F.H. 31. They were all very kind and surreptitiously checked on my health from time to time. I remember one day delivering a very full load of Germans suffering various states of damage, most of them sitting up but two or three bad stretcher cases. I had been on the go for several days and was very tired but there was only time for a very quick cup of coffee because I knew there was work back at the other end. We were ten or twelve miles ahead of the main part of the division and I was certain to be needed. One of my doctor friends went hurrying past waving as he went. Then he stopped, came back and studied my face. "When did you last sleep, or eat for that matter" he said, I was a bit tired but I explained the situation and said I must get on. He replied "Whether I am senior to you or not is unclear, but as a doctor I am telling you that you are to have at least two hours sleep and a good meal before you get behind the wheel of that ambulance again. I am going to get one of the nursing sisters who knows you, and I shall tell her to see that you get at least two hours undisturbed and a meal. I don't want you in my ward after the accident you are heading for". When I did finally get away I felt very much better.
One of the reasons for my quite undeserved popularity with the staff of F.H. 31 was because I brought first hand news of how the war was going. The rate at which rumour and fear could build up among a unit such as the hospital staff was quite extraordinary. If I could say "Well we have advanced about 10 miles today and knocked out 6 Panzers and only lost 2 Shermans but the Sherman crews are all safe". Then spirits were lifted and uncertainties were removed. Of course I could not always bring good news but at least, through me they heard the facts.
I have written, in another story ("What about the Quakers") about the "R & R" procedure when the whole division is withdrawn from time to time for "Rest and Recuperation". I think I made it clear how little rest anybody had and F.H. 31 was no exception. Quite early after the Invasion and soon after we left Paris a very high-powered American General discovered to his horror, that practically every soldier in one infantry division was riddled with lice. An order was issued that every soldier passing through the hospital was to undergo a delousing programme. Because of the high origin of this order it had to be taken seriously and I was not exempted although it was agreed that once was enough. In fact it was not at all a bad thing. I never experienced the slightest indication that I was infected but the general cleansing process was a good thing. Top clothing - in my case battle dress blouse and trousers were taken away for special cleaning. Everything else was placed in a heap for burning. We were issued with brand new shirts, socks, underclothes, etc. Between discarding all clothing and getting into the new ones, we were showered with something very smelly but which was presumably death to lice. This process was supervised by the CB's. There was little love lost between the CB's and the rest of the army so the activities in the shower unit can be imagined. I was removed from the process at that point, much to my relief. The CB's seemed to be scrubbing the showerees with a very stiff lavatory brush!
I did finally get my cherished battle dress back. It smelt awful but probably no worse than before. In any case everyone smelt the same so we probably didn't notice it. The lice must have succumbed to it because we were told that spot checks failed to find a single louse. (One wonders where they all went.)
Dealing with the delousing spoilt the R & R for the F.H. 31 and they decided to make up for it by giving a party. Once that sort of thing is decided everyone gets in on the act. Chef. Larreur certainly did, in fact it would not surprise me to learn that he was the one who suggested it. At least his invitation solved the main part of the drink problem and the quality of the wines is a memory that has stayed with me. The other part of the drink provision was covered by the invitation of my friend who was the Captain of the American military police unit who also appears in my story entitled "What about the Quakers". His unit seemed to spend a lot of time searching out and confiscating hidden stores of whiskey, brandy, gin and anything else that makes a party go. The size of the vehicle in which the Captain arrived made it clear that strong drink was unlikely to run out.
One of the features of the party was to be an international sing song. The English, who never shine at such things, were instructed to provide traditional English songs. As most of the English were in fact Welsh, the Welsh male voice choir was quite a feature. Their "Men of Harlech" earned several encores.
I, and one of my colleagues, who could sing rather well, rendered:
"Oh, Jemima, look at your Uncle Jim,
Down in the duck pond learning how to swim,
First he does the breast stroke, then he does the side,
Now he's under the water swimming against the tide".
You can hardly get more traditional than that. With his good voice and my actions we got away with it.
We were quite surprised at our reception which was probably an indication of how well the party was going. We decided to give them the "Walloping Window Blind" because I knew all the words (I believe I still do) and a good number of the audience also seemed to know it. Afterwards, one of the CB's told me, with some emotion, that he had last heard that shanty on a four-masted sailing ship rounding Cape Horn.
He was not the only one for whom the contribution of the English Quakers seemed to have been very well received. One of the nursing sisters said, to my great surprise, "You had several of us in tears". It seemed that they were reminded of pre-television parties at their homes where sing-songs were popular and they were overwhelmed with home sickness. I thought we had all made utter fools of ourselves, but Larreur said he would always remember it "You English provided a relaxed and easygoing atmosphere that needed no strong drink to create." I think both the Americans and the French saw a side of the English character that surprised them.
It was rumoured that the General heard all about it (Very little escaped him) and he wanted another party which he would attend. I don't think it ever took place because the "Battle of the Bulge" intervened and with it my very abrupt departure on my own stretcher!!
Dennis Woodcock
February 2002