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Extract from 'As God is my witness - a nurse's war' (personal memoir by Matron Susan Light. First published 1931). In the author's collection.
"Sometimes, in the night, one would hear a soldier sobbing in the darkness. More often than not, the cry would be for mother, even from men who were well into middle-age.
"To this day, I still blink back tears when I hear a youngster calling 'Mam or Mammy' . For, in truth, I heard those words far too many times during my experiences in France and Belgium. None who have heard these cries will ever forget those days and especially the nights.
"However, on this occasion, which occurred when I was in charge of ward 3 at Rouen Military Hospital, the soldier was crying for a lost love. She was a Belgian girl and he told me she had been cruelly murdered. In the midst of such worldwide carnage, I found his expression of heartfelt sorrow for his departed sweetheart all the more poignant and moving.
"The news of his beloved's death had been broken to the soldier earlier that day by an officer of the Royal Military Police. I shall never forget the young man's face, streaked with rivulets of tears and the almost audible sound of his breaking heart.
"His wound was only slight but I sincerely feared that he would die that night. His mental torment was almost too much to bear."
Major Derek Broomfield looked up as Bert McCallion entered the windowless room.
"Rfn. McCallion reporting Sir," announced Bert, snapping to attention.
It had been five days since his wounding at Messines, but the young soldier had made a swift recovery. His greatest fear now was of being sent back to Etaples and maybe even getting re-badged to some other mob.
He'd heard a few stories along those lines while recuperating and he tended to agree with the Scottish bloke in the next bed who was also nearing the end of his treatment.
"Boys, I'll take me chances on the road," he pledged. "I'm going back to my pals and no ******* is going to stop me."
The Jock was called Davie Robertson but most of the men in the ward simply called him 'Black Jock' because of his dark moods. Bert McCallion had got on well with the big man from Lanark.
"How did you end up with a good name like McCallion then?" joked Robertson, one day, as they strolled down the ward.
"My old man's from up your way, Jock. Came down to Mudcaster for the Mill Work in the 90s. But you should meet the Welsh bloke in our section! Old Taff's real name is Dai Macallister! His old fella was a miner up around Linwood but ended up down the valleys .. what a name, eh?"
And, so, when Bert had been called to the meeting with Major Broomfield of the Military Police, he presumed he was being processed for the journey to Etaples.
"Just fill in your details on that form," said Broomfield. The policeman deliberately adopted the pose of a bureacrat, ensuring that all ts wre crossed and i's dotted.
He waited patiently for a response from McCallion.
"Permission to speak Sir?"
"Of course Rifleman," replied Broomfield.
"Sir, I want to go back to my chums. I don't need any sharpeners at Etaples and if I go down there they'll just shove me off to wherever they need reinforcements.
I came out her with the pals and ..."
Broomfield waved his hand: "Whatever gave you that idea? This interview has nothing to do with Etaples. I'm here to ask you about Amanda Viljoen."
A puzzled expression passed over Bert's face, he laid down the fountain pen he'd been writing with.
"She's my girl Sir. What's happened?" he asked.
"McCallion. It is my sad duty to inform you that Amanda Viljoen is dead. Her death is now the subject of an inquiry by the Belgian Gendarmerie and they have requested help from the Corps of Military Police.
"I am the senior invesigating officer for the Ypres sector."
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