Observations of an Orderly | Page 3

to be interested in, except work--and her
children's progress, and her cups of tea. Her ample figure concealed a
warm heart. Behind her wrinkled old face there was a brain with a
limited outfit of ideas--and the chief of those ideas was work.
Our cup of tea was refreshing, but it would be incorrect to convey the
notion that I was allowed to linger over such a luxury. There are few
intervals for leisure in the duty-hours of an orderly in an officers' ward.
Had the Sister and her nurses not been occupied elsewhere, I doubt
whether I should have been free to drink that cup of tea at all--a
circumstance of which perhaps Mrs. Mappin was more aware than I. At
any rate the call of "Orderly!" from a patient summoned me from the
kitchen and into the ward long before I had finished drying Mrs.
Mappin's dishes.
The patient desired some small service performed for him. I performed
it--remembering to address him as "Sir." Various other patients,
observing my presence, took the opportunity to hail me. I found myself
saying "Yes, Sir!" "In a moment, Sir!" and dropping--with a
promptitude on which I rather flattered myself--into the manner of a
cross between a valet and a waiter, with a subtle dash of chambermaid.
Soon I was also a luggage-porter, staggering to a taxi with the
ponderous impedimenta of a juvenile second lieutenant who was
bidding the hospital farewell, and whose trunks contained--at a
guess--geological specimens and battlefield souvenirs in the shape of
"dud" German shells. This young gentleman fumbled with a gratuity,
then thought better of it--and was gracious enough to return my grin.
"Bit awkward, tipping, in these days," he apologised cheerily,
depositing himself in his taxi behind ramparts of holdalls. "Thank you,

Sir," seemed the suitable adieu, and having proffered it I scampered
into the ward again. Anon Sister sent me with a message to the
dispensary. Where the dispensary was I knew not. But I found out, and
brought back what she required. Then to the post office. Another
exploration down that terrific corridor. Post office located at last and
duly noted. Then to the linen store to draw attention to an error in the
morning's supply of towels. Linen store eventually unearthed--likewise
the information that its staff disclaimed all responsibility for
mistakes--likewise the first inkling of a profound maxim, that when a
mistake has been made, in hospital, it is always the orderly, and no one
else, who has made it.
Engaged on these errands, and a host of intervening lesser exploits in
the ward, I had to cultivate an unwonted fleetness of foot. I flew. So did
the time. Almost immediately, as it seemed to me, I was bidden to
serve afternoon tea to our patients. The distribution of bed-tables, of
cups, of bread-and-butter (most of which, also, I cut); the "A little more
tea, Sir?" or, "A pot of jam in your locker, Sir, behind the pair of
trousers?... Yes, here it is, Sir"; the laborious feeding of a patient who
could not move his arms;--all these occupied me for a breathless hour.
Then an involved struggle with a patient who had to be lifted from a
bath-chair into bed. (I had never lifted a human being before.) Then a
second bout of washing-up with Mrs. Mappin. Then a nominal
half-an-hour's respite for my own tea--actually ten minutes, for I was
behindhand. Then, all too soon, more waitering at the ceremony of
Dinner: this time with the complication that some of my patients were
allowed wine, beer, or spirits, and some were not. "Burgundy, Sir?"
"Whiskey-and-soda, Sir?" I ran round the table of the sitting-up patients,
displaying (I was pleased to think) the complete aplomb and
nimbleness of a thoroughbred Swiss garçon, pouring out drinks--with
concealed envy--placing and removing plates, handing salt, bread,
serviettes.... After which, back to Mrs. Mappin and her renewed
mountain of once-more-to-be-washed-and-dried crockery.
It was long after my own supper hour had come and gone that I was
able to say au revoir to the ward. The cleansing of the grease-encrusted
meat-tin was a travail which alone promised to last half the night. (Mrs.

Mappin eventually lent me her assistance, and later I became more
adroit.) And the calls of "Orderly!" from the bed patients were
interruptions I could not ignore. But at last some sort of conclusion was
reached. Mrs. Mappin put on her bonnet. The night orderly, who was to
relieve me, was overdue. Sister, discovering me still in the kitchen,
informed me that I might leave.
"You ain't 'ad any supper, 'ave you?" said Mrs. Mappin. "You won't get
none now, neither. Should 'ave done a bunk a full hower back, you
should."
She drew me into the larder, and indicated the debris of our patients'
repast.