Running away

I ran away from home in 1942 at the age of 17½ to be a Red Cross nurse. My mother’s plan was for me to continue a shorthand and typing course in order to be a secretary but I wanted a more caring career.

Once I was 18, I was old enough to start general nursing training. Before D-day, I was working in a South Coast hospital preparing dressings and instruments for autoclave and sterilising.

As D-day approached, the wards were cleared and most patients were sent further inland. We prepared seemingly endless dressings while squadrons of planes flew overhead towards the French coast. Then the casualties began to arrive in their waves and I worked in the operating theatre for long, long days. After a few hours rest, we were sent on to the wards. After 2 or 3 days to stabilise, the least-severely wounded who were able to travel were sent inland to continue their recovery.

I completed my training and worked in nursing and medicine all my life. I later married a young naval officer who had been torpedoed on Christmas Day 1943.

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