Dr. Elsie Inglis

True to her instinct never to pause over a set-back, she lost no time in pressing on her last enterprise for the Serbians. M. Curcin, in The Englishwoman, says: —

‘She was already acquainted with one side of the Serbian problem – Serbia; she was told that in Russia there was the best opportunity to learn about the second half – the Serbs of Austria, the Jugoslavs. In six weeks Dr. Inglis succeeded in raising a hospital unit and transport section staffed by eighty women heroes of the Scottish Women’s Hospitals to start with her on a most adventurous undertaking, via Archangel, through Russia to Odessa and the Dobrudja. Dr. Inglis succeeded also – most difficult of all – in getting permission from the British authorities for the journey. Eye-witnesses – officers and soldiers – tell everybody to-day how those women descended, practically straight from the railway carriages, after forty days’ travelling, beside the stretchers with wounded, and helped to dress the wounds of those who had had to defend the centre and also a wing of the retreating army. For fifteen months she remained with those men, whose rôle is not yet fully realised, but is certain to become one of the most wonderful and characteristic facts of the conflagration of nations.’

The Edinburgh Committee had already so many undertakings on behalf of the S.W.H. that they gladly allowed the Committee formed by the London Branch of the N.U.W.S.S. to undertake the whole work of organising this last adventure for the Serbian Army. It was as their Commissioner that Dr. Inglis and her unit sailed the wintry main, and to them she sent the voluminous and brilliant reports of her work. When the Russian revolution imperilled the safety of the Serbian Army on the Rumanian front, she sent home members of her unit, charged with important verbal messages to her Government. Through the last anxious month, when communications were cut off, short messages, unmistakably her own, came back to the London Committee, that they might order her to return. She would come with the Serbian Army and not without them. We at home had to rest on the assurances of the Foreign Office, always alive to the care and encouragement of the S.W.H., that Dr. Inglis and her unit were safe, and that their return would be expedited at the safest hour. In those assurances we learnt to rest, and the British Government did not fail that allied force – the Serbian Army and the Scottish women serving them. The following letters were those written to her family with notes from her graphic report to her Committees. The clear style and beautiful handwriting never changed even in those last days, when those who were with her knew that nothing but the spirit kept the wasted body at its work. ‘The Serbian Division is superb; we are proud to be attached to it.’ These were the last words in her last letter from Odessa in June 1917. That pride of service runs through all the correspondence. The spirit she inspired is noteworthy in a book which covers the greater part of these fifteen months, With the Scottish Nurses in Rumania, by Yvonne Fitzroy. In a daily diary a searchlight is allowed to fall on some of the experiences borne with such high-hearted nonchalance by the leader and her gallant disciples.

Mrs. Haverfield, who saw her work, writes:

‘It was perfectly incredible that one human being could do the work she accomplished. Her record piece of work perhaps was at Galatz, Rumania, at the end of the retreat. There were masses and masses of wounded, and she and her doctors and nurses performed operations and dressings for fifty-eight hours out of sixty-three. Dr. Scott, of the armoured cars, noted the time, and when he told her how long she had been working, she simply said, “Well, it was all due to Mrs. Milne, the cook, who kept us supplied with hot soup.” She had been very tired for a long time; undoubtedly the lack of food, the necessity of sleeping on the floor, and nursing her patients all the time told on her health. In Russia she was getting gradually more tired until she became ill. When she was the least bit better she was up again, and all the time she attended to the business of the unit.

‘Just before getting home she had a relapse, and the last two or three days on board ship, we know now, she was dying. She made all the arrangements for the unit which she brought with her, however, and interviewed every member of it. To Miss Onslow, her transport officer, she said, when she arrived at Newcastle, “I shall be up in London in a few days’ time, and we will talk the matter of a new unit over.” Miss Onslow turned away with tears in her eyes.’

‘H.M. Transport – ,‘Sep. 6, 1916.

‘Dearest Amy, – Here we are more than half way through our voyage. We got off eventually on Wednesday night, and lay all Thursday in the river. You never in your life saw such a filthy boat as this was when we came on board. The captain had been taken off an American liner the day before. The only officer who had been on this boat before was the engineer officer. All the rest were new. The crew were drunk to a man, and, as the Transport officer said, “The only way to get this ship right, is to get her out.” So we got out. I must say we got into shape very quickly. We cleaned up, and now we are painting. They won’t know her when she gets back. She is an Austrian Lloyd captured at the beginning of the war, and she has been trooping in the Mediterranean since. She was up at Glasgow for this new start, but she struck the Glasgow Fair, and could therefore get nothing done, so she was brought down to the port we started from – as she was. We are a wonderful people! The captain seems to be an awfully good man. He is Scotch, and was on the Anchor Line to Bombay. This is quite a tiny little boat. She has all our equipment, fourteen of our cars. For passengers, there are ourselves, seventy-five people, and three Serbian officers, and the mother and sister of one of them, and thirty-two Serbian non-commissioned officers. They are going to our Division.

‘The cabins are most comfortable. On the saloon deck there are twenty-two very small, single cabins. And on this deck larger cabins with either three or four berths. I am on this deck in the most luxurious quarters. It is called The Commanding Officer’s Cabin (ahem). There is a huge cabin with one berth; off it on one side another cabin with a writing-table and sofa, and off it on the other side a bathroom and dressing-room! Of course, if we had had rough weather, and the ports had had to be closed, it would not have been so nice, especially as the glass in all the portholes is blackened, but we have had perfectly glorious weather. At night every porthole and window is closed to shut in the light, but the whole ship is very well ventilated. A good many of them sleep up in the boats, or in one of the lorries.

‘We sighted one submarine, but it took no notice of us, so we took no notice of it. We had all our boats allotted to us the very first day. We divided the unit among them, putting one responsible person in charge of each, and had boat drill several times. Then one day the captain sounded the alarm for practice, and everybody was at their station in three minutes in greatcoat and life-belt. The amusing thing was that some of them thought it was a real alarm, and were most annoyed and disappointed to find there was not a submarine really there! The unit as a whole seems very nice and capable, though there are one or two queer characters! But most of them are healthy, wholesome bricks of girls. I hope we shall get on all right. Of course a field hospital is quite a new bit of work.

‘We reach our port of disembarkation this afternoon. The voyage has been a most pleasant one in every way. As soon as sea-sickness was over the unit developed a tremendous amount of energy, and we have had games on deck, and concerts, and sports, and a fancy dress competition! All this in addition to drill every morning, which was compulsory.

‘We began the day at 8.30 – breakfast, the cabins were tidied. 9.30 – roll call and cabin inspection immediately after; then drill – ordinary drill, stretcher drill, and Swedish drill in sections. Lunch was at 12.30, and then there were lessons in Russian, Serbian, and French, to which they could go if they liked, and most of them took one, or even two, and lectures on motor construction, etc. Tea at 4, and dinner 6.30. You would have thought there was not much time for anything else, but the superfluous energy of a British unit manages to put a good deal more in. (The head of a British unit in Serbia once said to me that the chief duty of the head of a British unit was to use up the superfluous energy of the unit in harmless ways. He said that the only time there was no superfluous energy was when the unit was overworking. That was the time I found that particular unit playing rounders!) The sports were most amusing. I was standing next to a Serb officer during the obstacle race, and he suddenly turned to me and said, “C’est tout-à-fait nouveau pour nous, Madame.” I thought it must be, for at that moment they were getting under a sail which had been tied down to the deck – two of them hurled themselves on the sail and dived under it, you saw four legs kicking wildly, and then the sail heaved and fell, and two dishevelled creatures emerged at the other side, and tore at two life-belts which they went through, and so on. I should think it was indeed tout-à-fait nouveau. Some of the dresses at the fancy dress competition were most clever. There was Napoleon – the last phase, in the captain’s long coat and somebody’s epaulettes, and one of our grey hats, side to the front, excellent; and Tweedledum and Tweedledee, in saucepans and life-belts. One of them got herself up as a “greaser,” and went down to the engine-room to get properly dirty, with such successful result that, when she was coming up to the saloon, with her little oiling can in her hand, one of the officers stopped her with, “Now, where are you going to, my lad?”

‘We ended up with all the allied National Anthems, the Serbs leading their own.

‘I do love to see them enjoying themselves, and to hear them chattering and laughing along the passages, for they’ll have plenty of hard work later. We had service on Sunday, which I took, as the captain could not come down. Could you get us some copies of the Archbishop of Canterbury’s war prayers? We have just had our photograph taken. The captain declares he was snap-shotted six times one morning. I don’t know if the Russian Government will let us take all these cameras with us. We are flying the Union Jack for the first time to-day since we came out. It is good to know you are all thinking of us. – Ever your loving sister,

Elsie Maud Inglis.’‘On the Train to Moscow,‘Sep. 14, 1916.

‘Dearest Amy, – Here we are well on our way to Moscow, having got through Archangel in 2½ days – a feat, for we were told at home that it might be six weeks. They did not know that there is a party of our naval men there helping the Russians, and Archangel is magnificently organised now.

‘When one realises that the population was 5000 before the war, and is now 20,000, it is quite clear there was bound to be some disorganisation at first.

‘I never met a kinder set of people than are collected at Archangel just now. They simply did everything for us, and sent us off in a train with a berth for each person, and gave us a wonderful send off. The Russian Admiral gave us a letter which acts as a kind of magic ring whenever it is produced. The first time it was really quite startling. We were longing for Nyamdonia where we were to get dinner. We were told we should be there at four o’clock, then at five, and at six o’clock we pulled up at a place unknown, and rumours began to spread that our engine was off, and sure enough it was, and was shunting trucks. Miss Little, one of our Russian-speaking people, and I got out. We tried our united eloquence, she in fluent Russian, and I saying, Shechaz, which means “immediately” at intervals, and still they looked helpless and said, “Two hours and a half.” Then I produced my letter, and you never saw such a change. They said, “Five minutes,” and we were off in three. We tried it all along the line after that; my own belief is that we should still be at the unknown place, without that letter, shunting trucks. At one station, Miss Little heard the station-master saying, “There is a great row going on here, and there will be trouble to-morrow if this train isn’t got through.” Eventually, we reached Nyamdonia at 11.30, and found a delightful Russian officer, and an excellent dinner paid for by the Russian Government, waiting for us. We all thought the food very good, and I thought the sauce of hunger helped. The next day, profiting over our Nyamdonia experience, I said meals were to be had at regular times from our stores in the train, and we should take the restaurants as we found them, with the result that we arrived at Vorega, where déjeuner had been ordered just as we finished a solid lunch of ham and eggs. I said they had better go out and have two more courses, which they did with great content, and found it quite as nice as the night before.

‘This is a special train for us and the Serbian officers and non-coms. We broke a coupling after we left Nyamdonia, and they sent out another carriage from there, but it had not top berths, so they had another sleeper ready when we reached Vologda. They gave us another and stronger engine at Nyamdonia, because we asked for it, and have repaired cisterns, and given us chickens and eggs; and when we thank them, they say, “It is for our friends.” The crowd stand round three deep while we eat, and watch us all the time, quite silently in the stations. In Archangel one old man asked, “Who, on God’s earth, are you?”

‘They gave us such a send-off from Archangel! Russian soldiers were drawn up between the ship and the train, and cheered us the whole way, with a regular British cheer; our own crew turned out with a drum and a fife and various other instruments, and marched about singing. Then they made speeches, and cheered everybody, and then suddenly the Russian soldiers seized the Serbian officers and tossed them up and down, up and down, till they were stopped by a whistle. But they had got into the mood by then, and they rushed at me. You can imagine, I fled, and seized hold of the British Consul. I did think the British Empire would stand by me, but he would do nothing but laugh. And I found myself up in the air above the crowd, up and down, quite safe, hands under one and round one. They were so happy that I waved my hand to them, and they shouted and cheered. The unit is only annoyed that they had not their cameras, and that anyhow it was dark. Then they tossed Captain Bevan, who is in command there, because he was English, and the Consul for the same reason, and the captain of the transport because he had brought us out. We sang all the national anthems, and then they danced for us. It was a weird sight in the moonlight. Some of the dances were like Indian ones, and some reminded me of our Highland flings. We went on till one in the morning – all the British colony, there. I confess, I was tired – though I did enjoy it. Captain Bevan’s good-bye was the nicest and so unexpected – simply “God bless you.” Mrs. Young, the Consul’s wife, Mrs. Kerr, both Russians, simply gave up their whole time to us, took the girls about, and Mrs. Kerr had the whole unit to tea. I had lunch one day at the British Mess, and another day at the Russian Admiral’s. They all came out to dinner with us.

‘Of course a new face means a lot in an out-of-the-way place, and seventy-five new faces was a God-send. Well, as I said before, they are the kindest set of people I ever came across. They brought us our bread, and changed our money, and arranged with the bank, and got us this train with berths, and thought of every single thing for us.

‘Nearing Odessa,‘Sep. 21, 1916.

‘Darling Eve, – We are nearing the second stage of our journey, and they say we shall be in Odessa to-night. We have all come to the conclusion that a Russian minute is about ten times as long as ours. If we get in to-night we shall have taken nine days from Archangel; with all the lines blocked with military trains, that is not bad. All the same we have had some struggles, but it has been a very comfortable journey and very pleasant. The Russian officials all along the line have been most helpful and kind. A Serbian officer on board, or rather a Montenegrin, looked after us like a father.

‘What we should have done without M. and Mme. Malinina at Moscow, I don’t know. They gave the whole afternoon up to us: took us to the Kremlin – he, the whole unit on special tramcars, and she, three of us in her motor. They are both very busy people. She has a beautiful hospital, a clearing one at the station, and he is a member of the Duma, and Commandant of all the Red Cross work in Moscow. We only had a glimpse of the Kremlin, yet enough to make one want to see more. I carried away one beautiful picture to remember – the view of Moscow in the sunset light, simply gorgeous.

‘The unit are very very well, and exceedingly cheerful. I am not sorry to have had these three weeks since we left to get the unit in hand. They are in splendid order now. When M. Malinina said it was time to leave the Kremlin, and the order was given to “Fall in,” I was quite proud of them, they did it so quickly. It is wonderful even now what they manage to do. Miss H. says they are like eels in a basket. They were told not to eat fruit without peeling it, so one of them peeled an apple with her teeth. They were told not to drink unboiled water, so they handed their water-bottles out at dead of night to Russian soldiers, to whom they could not explain, to fill for them, as of course they understood they were not to fill them from water on the train. I must say they are an awfully nice lot on the whole. We certainly shall not fail for want of energy. The Russian crowds are tremendously interested in them. – Ever your loving aunt,

‘Elsie.’‘Reni, Sep. 29, 1916.

‘Dearest Amy, – We have left Odessa and are really off to our Division. We are going to the 1st Division. General Haditch is in command there. We were told this is the important point in the war just now – “A Second Verdun.” The great General Mackensen is in command against us. He was in command at Krushinjevatz when we were taken prisoners. Every one says how anxiously they are looking out for us, and, indeed, we shall have our work cut out for us. We are two little field hospitals for a whole Division. Think if that was the provision for our own men. They are such a magnificent body of men. We saw the 2nd Division preparing in Odessa. Only from the point of view of the war, they ought to be looked after, but when one remembers that they are men, every one of them with somebody who cares for them, it is dreadful. I wish we were each six women instead of one. I have wired home for another Base Hospital to take the place of the British Red Cross units when they move on with the 2nd Division. The Russians are splendid in taking the Serbs into their Base Hospitals, but you can imagine what the pressure is from their own huge armies. We had such a reception at Odessa. All the Russian officials, at the station, and our Consul, and a line drawn up of twenty Serbian officers. They had a motor car and forty droskies and a squad of Serbian soldiers to carry up our personal luggage, and most delightful quarters for us on the outskirts of the town in a sanatorium. We were the guests of the city while we were there. Our Consul was so good and helpful. Odessa is immensely interested in us. We were told that the form of greeting while we were there was, “Have you seen them?” The two best things were the evening at the Serbian Mess, and the gala performance at the opera. The cheering of the Serbian mess when we went in was something to remember, but I can tell you I felt quite choking when the whole house last night turned round and cheered us after we tried to sing our National Anthem to them with the orchestra.

‘Reni, Oct. 28, 1916.

‘Dearest Amy, – Just a line to say I am all right. Four weeks to-morrow since we reached Medgidia, and began our hospital. We evacuated it in three weeks, and here we are all back on the frontier. Such a time it has been, Amy dear. You cannot imagine what war is just behind the lines, and in a retreat! – our second retreat, and almost to the same day. We evacuated Kragujevatz on the 25th of October last year. We evacuated Medgidia on the 22nd this year. On the 25th this year, we were working in a Russian dressing-station at Harshova, and were moved on in the evening. We arrived at Braila to find 11,000 wounded, and seven doctors – only one of them a surgeon.

‘Boat came. Must stop. Am going back to Braila to do surgery. Have sent every trained person there. – Your loving sister,

Elsie.

‘P.S.– We have had lots of exciting things too, and amusing things, and good things.’

‘On the Danube at Tulcea,‘Nov. 11/16.

‘Dearest Amy, – I am writing this on the boat between Tulcea and Ismail, where I am going to see our second hospital and the transport. Admiral Vesolskin has given me a special boat, and we motored over from Braila. The Étappen command had been expecting us all afternoon, and the boat was ready. They were very amused to find that “the doctor” they had been expecting was a woman!

‘Our main hospital was at Medgidia, and our field hospital at Bulbulmic, only about seven miles from the front. They gave us a very nice building, a barrack, at Medgidia for the hospital, and the personnel were in tents on the opposite hill. We arrived on the day of the offensive, and were ready for patients within forty-eight hours. We were there less than three weeks, and during that time we unpacked the equipment and repacked it. We made really a rather nice hospital at Medgidia, and the field hospital. We pitched and struck the camp – we were nursing and operating the whole time, and evacuating rapidly too, and our cars were on the road practically always.

‘The first notice we got of the retreat was our field hospital being brought back five versts. Then the transport. Then we were told to send the equipment to Galatz, but to keep essential things and the personnel. Then came orders to go ourselves. I never saw such a retreat. Serbia was nothing to it. The whole country was covered with groups of soldiers who had lost their regiments. Russians, Serbs, and Rumanians. The Rumanian guns were simply being rushed back, through the crowds of refugees. The whole country was moving: in some places the panic was awful. One part of our scattered unit came in for it. You would have thought the Bulgars were at the heels of the people. One man threw away a baby right in front of the cars. They were throwing everything off the carts to lighten them, and our people, being of a calmer disposition, picked up what they wanted in the way of vegetables, etc. Men, with their rifles and bayonets, climbed on to the Red Cross cars to save a few minutes. We simply went head over heels out of the country. I want to collect all the different stories of our groups. My special lot slept the first night on straw in Caromacat; the next night on the roadside round a lovely fire; the next (much reduced in numbers, for I had cleared the majority off in barges for Galatz), we slept in an empty room at Hershova, and spent the next day dressing at the wharf. And by the next night we were in Braila, involved in the avalanche of wounded that descended on that place, and there we have been ever since.

‘We found some of our transport, and, while we were having tea, an officer came in and asked us to go round and help in a hospital. There, we were told, there were 11,000 wounded (I believe the official figures are 7000). They had been working thirty-six hours without stopping when we arrived.

‘The wounded had overflowed into empty houses, and were lying about in their uniforms, and their wounds not dressed for four or five days. You can imagine the conditions.

‘So we just turned up our sleeves and went in. I got back all the trained Sisters from Galatz, and now the pressure is over. One thing I am going up to Ismail for, is to get into touch with the Serbian H. 2, and find out what they want us to do next. The Serb wounded were evacuated straight to Odessa.

‘The unit as a whole has behaved splendidly, plucky and cheery through everything, and game for any amount of work.