Immediately prior to mobilisation, members of the Territorial Force Nursing Service were working as nurses in ordinary civil hospitals and private houses. But if mobilised, they had a commitment to put their lives and jobs on hold, leave their homes, and report to their pre-arranged unit within 48 hours. This is Edith Holden's account of her first meeting with 3rd London General Hospital.

Matron's First Day

It was very hot, and I was just starting for a holiday (which I considered I needed very badly) when I was summoned to come to the 3rd London General Hospital. Where that was I didn’t know. But I hoped it might be “Somewhere in France.”

The taxi, after many wrong turnings swerved in at a lodge and drew up at a grey-looking building which is now the 3rd London, at Wandsworth. I had often seen that building from the train, but never imagined it would be to me what it now is.

I was shown into a long room on the right-hand side of the door, where a few sisters were sitting – waiting, I suppose, to see what I was like. To my relief I knew one or two of them, and we talked of the possibilities of the war and our own future outlook on life.

Then came lunch. I can see, now, a more than kind orderly, in a very dirty suit of white overalls, tied up with string, bringing in that lunch.

First he brought a loaf in his hand, which he planted at one end of the table. (There were no table-cloths in those days). Then he went out, and I held my breath and watched for his return. He came – carrying a few, very few, knives and plates. These he put round, finally returning with a huge piece of cheese which was placed at the opposite end of the table to the bread. Then he went.

Then someone wisely suggested that it wouldn’t be a bad plan to eat. So we sat round the table. And some of us ate. Suddenly a voice from the other end of the table said: “I wonder what time is dinner?” To which a chorus replied: “This is dinner!” There wasn’t any comment from the owner of the voice, but I noticed that she made a fresh start on the bread and cheese.

In the meantime I was struggling with my knife. Never shall I forget that knife. It looked quite harmless, but the minute I tried to cut with it, it swung round on a swivel and jeered at me – blade upwards. I tried again and again, but it beat me every time, and with blade up refused to cut: so I quietly passed it on to my next door neighbour and watched her battling with it – with great joy.

Then we wanted tea – as I have never wanted it before or since. One sister went in search of it and returned after a long time with the good orderly in attendance. He was carrying a tray with an enormous tin teapot on it, surrounded by patriotic mugs, which looked like goblets. The orderly solemnly poured out for each of us a mug of tea, and then departed – with the teapot. Never have I had such hot tea. There were no handles to the mugs, and eventually in despair I wrapped my handkerchief round mine and drank in comfort. There was only one very large spoon, which was handed round. We never solved the etiquette of that spoon. Was it correct for the last person who used it to leave it in her mug, and drink round it, or ought she to have put it on the table when finished with? I wonder.

At last my first meal at the 3rd was finished, and I was taken to be introduced to the Commanding Officer, who had just arrived. After a little while we went to see the building. My impression was rows and rows of beds, endless, small, low beds; one room leading out of another till I was bewildered. I though of the poor nurses who would have to stoop over those beds, and my back ached in sympathy. It was a great relief to hear that proper beds were coming, and all those small ones were to be cleared out. It seemed hours to me before we got back to the room from which we started, and I saw, to my great joy, tea and bread and jam waiting. One kind sister took pity on me, and cut slice after slice of bread and jam for me – and having learned the way to hold my mug I made an excellent tea in the lap of luxury.

After tea we sat under some beautiful trees on the lawn and discussed the possibilities of making a hospital. I confess my heart sank when, in my mind’s eye, I saw those beds, and the windows which didn’t open, and I almost wished I could just slip off back to my own comfortable hospital, where the beds were a decent height and the windows did open and the knives were not on swivels!

Click for photo of Edith Holden