Government Departments tend to economise by keeping a careful watch over the salaries of their subordinate staff, and a great deal of correspondence and effort were directed to improve the conditions of pay for various groups of the women employed.
A strenuous attempt was made to obtain better terms for clerks, for the pay given to them in 1915 was not a living wage. Twenty-five shillings a week was considered enough for shorthand typists; and a colonel who was interviewed on the subject refused assistance on the ground that ‘the girls in his office got no more, and they looked alright.’ After weeks of letter writing, the pay was raised to twenty-six shillings, with overtime at ninepence an hour; and gradually it was pushed up for all grades of Government clerks. When a bonus for clerks was introduced, the men received four shillings a week and the women two shillings, although they were doing the same work. The weekly salary finally reached thirty-nine shillings and forty-five shillings, but the rate was always below that paid by civilian employers, and the Government was in the position of exploiting the patriotism and generous feeling of the women who worked for it.
The Quartermaster was graded and paid as a sergeant-major and the storekeepers as sergeants. When these officials had given two years’ service, it was requested that the Quartermaster might be promoted to a higher grade, and as this was refused because she was a ‘civilian,’ a claim was made for authority to draw the bonus for her and the sergeants to which civilian employees were entitled. After many weeks of waiting, the Doctor-in-Charge was informed that these members of the staff were not civilians. Since they were paid under Royal Warrant, they were N.C.O.’s, R.A.M.C., and were entitled to draw an additional penny a day for each year of service. Thus, instead of a bonus amounting to some shillings weekly, the Quartermaster was allowed to draw an additional 1s. 2d. per week; and a similar economy was made in respect of other members of her staff. Many months later, when the army bonus and new rates of pay were introduced, the authorities would fain have designated these officials as ‘civilians.’ But the letter calling them N.C.O.’s, R.A.M.C., was very definite, and both they and the medical officers benefited by the new rates.
The files were full of letters about inadequate pay or insufficient allowances, or requests that the staff of Endell Street might come under new rates announced in Army Council Instructions which did not specially mention that hospital. In most cases the requests were granted after long delay, and the arrears which accumulated during the period of negotiation were drawn in a lump sum, and made a pleasant impression of wealth.
A notable instance of procrastination occurred over the cooks’ pay, correspondence concerning which spread over eleven months! The cooks all had three or four years of continuous service to their credit; during that period they had not received any increment, and the bonus granted to ‘civilian subordinates’ had been refused to them. Then the rate of pay for women engaged in cleaning and in the kitchen work was raised; and the vegetable women and kitchen maids began to draw higher pay than the cooks under whom they worked. It speaks volumes for the good-feeling and loyalty of the cooks that no unpleasantness occurred over this situation; and that although readjustment was delayed month after month, everything continued to go smoothly and well. A few weeks before the hospital closed the new rate of pay was settled, and a substantial sum in arrears was available for each one.
It may have been that the new Women’s Corps and Services offered a more attractive life to women, or that hospital work began to pall upon them after several years of war; but it became more difficult to find recruits, and in 1918 a glad welcome was extended to a number of American women who came over to London to serve as orderlies at the Military Hospital, Endell Street. This little group of women was known as the ‘Hazard unit’; for the work of organising it and sending it to England was due to the energy, resource and friendship of Mrs. Hazard of Syracuse. The American women, though untrained in hospital work and unaccustomed to English life, took up the task before them with great enthusiasm, and proved very useful members of the staff. The hospital was much indebted to Miss Nancy Cook and Miss Marion Dickerman, who gave a year of most valuable service, and whose happy personalities endeared them to all those with whom they came in contact.
The problem of resting the orderly staff was always important, and as the years passed, it became more pressing. The holidays allowed under the terms of appointment were very insufficient, and it was essential to give each one a full month’s leave in the summer, if they were to keep well and fit for the work. This could only be done if other girls could be found to take their places temporarily; for the summer was always the busiest time of the year. An appeal for temporary workers was sent to a number of the women’s colleges and girls’ schools, and in 1917 and 1918 a very cordial response was met with.
During the vacation, students from the London School of Medicine for Women came in large numbers to work in the wards and laboratories and operating theatre. Teachers from the women’s colleges at Oxford and Cambridge and from girls’ schools gave up a month or a fortnight of their hard-earned rest to relieve the hospital orderlies. Older girls came by tens from Roedean School for girls to take up administrative or clerical work or to be general duties orderlies. Wycombe Abbey sent its contingent, and friends and younger sisters volunteered to help also. The scheme was a great success: the regular orderlies appreciated the good holiday and came back better for it, and the substitutes enjoyed the novelty of the work and surroundings, and learnt much that was useful to themselves. Sunburnt, muscular schoolgirls appeared to find great pleasure in conveying stores and linen about the hospital, and their good spirits were a delightful asset. They took an interest too, in the personnel and customs of the hospital, and were wont to carry on conversations about them in loud tones, which were very amusing to those who could not help overhearing them.
A dormitory which three Roedean girls and an Endell Street orderly were using was very close to the rooms occupied by Dr. Flora Murray and Dr. Garrett Anderson. One summer night, as the babel of voices in the residential quarters died down, the piercing conversation close at hand attracted their attention.
1st Roedean: ‘Do you like Dr. Murray?’
2nd Roedean: ‘No, I don’t think I do.’
1st Roedean: ‘Why don’t you like her?’
2nd Roedean: ‘Oh, I don’t know. I don’t think I like her manner.’
3rd Roedean: ‘Have you ever spoken to her?’
2nd Roedean: ‘Yes, I have, once.’
1st Roedean: ‘What does she do?’
Orderly: ‘Oh, she sits in that office.’
1st Roedean: ‘Do you like Dr. Anderson?’
2nd Roedean: ‘Yes, I like her awfully.’
3rd Roedean: ‘Have you ever spoken to her?’
2nd Roedean: ‘Oh no, I’ve never spoken to her.’
1st Roedean: ‘What does she do?’
Orderly: ‘Oh, she does all the operations.’
Roedean in chorus: ‘Oh! how horrible!’
Warning voice from room above: ‘Campbell!’
Orderly: ‘Yes.’
Voice: ‘They can hear every word you say.’
The silence which fell was almost as penetrating as the voices had been.
But while they retained their independence of mind and their vivacity, they gave very real service to the hospital; and the Doctor-in-Charge and the Matron were not less grateful than the orderlies who owed so much to the students and others who set them temporarily free.
During the winter months which followed the Armistice there was little change in the work coming into the hospital. Men arrived in large numbers from France and from the East, and the hospital was full to overflowing for Christmas 1918. It was to be the last Christmas at Endell Street, and the Entertainment Committee and the staff decided that it was to be the best, and festivities and gaieties were organised on a special scale. As the new year advanced, men began to arrive from every part of the world; the hospital ships brought them from India, Egypt, Mesopotamia, Palestine, and Turkey, Salonika and Russia, Italy and Africa. Some were recovering from wounds; some were repatriated prisoners of war; and others were suffering from diseases contracted in the East.
The surgical work became less pressing, and more wards were set aside for medical patients. Cases of pneumonia and acute appendicitis were as frequent as ever, but there was less night work; the convoys were fewer and came at reasonably early hours, and there were no air-raids to get every one out of bed. Innumerable men on demobilisation leave reported or were brought in for accidents or illness, and the ‘Johnny Walker’ Ward was in constant use at night.
The returning soldier was strangely unmoved by the countries he had visited, and seemed to have learnt little of their geography and inhabitants, and to care not at all what became of them. Palestine, perhaps, had interested him most, for the familiar Biblical stories and names of places had made it real for him. A Scotsman, who was wounded two miles distant from Jerusalem, never ceased to regret that he had not entered that city. He had been thrilled by the waters of Jordan and moved by the sight of Gaza and Beersheba, and it was a bitter disappointment to be carried back and to miss the Holy City. Others spoke of the Mount of Olivet and the road from Jerusalem to Jericho, of Joppa and of Lebanon, with an interest and an appreciation which was very different from that shown for Italy or Greece. But the general feeling was one of relief at being back in England, combined with an intense eagerness to be demobilised.
Regulations for demobilisation were issued at first in pamphlet form, and later as thick books in more than one volume. They were supplemented by conferences held at Headquarters, at which most confusing discussions took place, and the blind attempted to lead the blind to their mutual embarrassment. The regulations were amended, altered, or amplified almost week by week, and the frequent small changes in procedure had to be observed and noted. It was easy to make a slip among the complicated rules for the disposal of patients. The men did not themselves understand the regulations for demobilisation, and each one was inclined to think himself entitled to ‘get out first,’ or failed to see how his position differed from that of his more fortunate neighbour. Convoys of convalescent hospital cases arrived from Russia or Italy or India, all eager to get home, and anxious not to be detained long in the home hospital. The staff applied itself with energy to the task of holding Boards and making up documents, and many were the compliments received from N.C.O.’s and men upon the rapidity with which their demobilisation was completed. Men from various units who were about to be demobilised, or men who had been demobilised, attended by hundreds in the casualty room, for medical examination and report, and the task of examining them and assessing their disabilities made heavy demands on the time of the doctors.
As the summer months passed, the tone of the men in the wards gradually changed. They only wanted to get out of the army: to be rid of discipline, to get back their former work, or to be pensioned. They craved for liberty and plenty of amusement, and above everything they desired to see restrictions of every kind removed. The inevitable reaction had set in, and they were filled with half-understood desires and a dissatisfaction which they could not explain.
As other hospitals in London closed, their patients were transferred to those that remained open, and many such transfers were sent to Endell Street. Apart from further treatment, which might or might not be required, numbers of these men were ready to be demobilised, others to be invalided; and many asked to be transferred to the neighbourhood of their own homes. The Scots would wish to be sent to Scotland, the Irish to Ireland, the Welsh to Wales; and for all such local accommodation was obtained. The tone and manner of men transferred from other hospitals, where discipline was slack, were unpopular with the staff; but after a few days, the civilising influences of the nurses triumphed and the men adopted more gentle ways. There were times when eighty or a hundred men arrived with the intention of giving trouble, and those in charge found it necessary to exert their authority and take a firm stand. It was especially during these latter months that the work of the doctors would have been much easier if they had been wearing badges of rank.
In October 1919, an order was issued to evacuate and close the hospital; and though this instruction had been more or less expected, it was nevertheless received with regret; for it meant the termination of the work and the dispersal of those who had been united so long and so happily in the Women’s Hospital Corps.
No more convoys came in, and as the disposal of the present cases was systematically proceeded with, the wards gradually fell vacant. There was stock-taking to do and equipment to be returned to store before the nursing staff could be released. Deficiencies and breakages were disclosed, and the unaccountable disappearance of scissors and bath-towels clouded the last days. By the end of the month, the remaining patients had been passed over to other hospitals. The doctors dined together and spent a festive evening at the Alhambra. They held their last staff meeting and separated, with a pleasant sense of work accomplished, many happy memories and the knowledge that the ties of friendship would not be readily broken.
The Matron and Sisters were demobilised, and sadly turned to other work or holidays. The last of the nursing orderlies said farewell, and there remained only the clerks and quartermaster’s staff, with the Doctor-in-Charge, for the purpose of winding up.
In recognition of their services, six awards of the Order of the British Empire were made to doctors, and eleven Royal Red Crosses were bestowed upon the Matron and nursing Sisters. Members of the Corps who had served in France were also entitled to receive the 1914 Star, the British War Medal and the Victory Medal.
Before finally separating, the members of the Women’s Hospital Corps determined to perpetuate the name of the hospital which had grown so dear to them all, and it was decided to raise a Commemoration Fund and to endow a bed in the Women’s Hospital for Children in Harrow Road. This hospital was chosen because Dr. Garrett Anderson, Dr. Flora Murray and Dr. Buckley were on its staff, and because it aimed at giving opportunities to women doctors in the study and practice of children’s medicine. Under the able direction of Dr. Buckley and Dr. Sheppard, an appeal was issued to all who had worked at Endell Street and to all who had been patients there; and within a few months the first £1000 was subscribed. The response from old patients was very friendly, and many of them took a great deal of trouble to collect among their friends and fellow-workmen, and sent substantial contributions.
Private S—— sent 50s. with a letter: ‘I have done my best for you. I took the letter you sent me into work with me and some of them agreed to help me, so I made out a paper as you will see and took it round the Firm so you must excuse it being so dirty and would you kindly let me have a letter back to take into work and show my Fellow workmen.’
Private C—— wrote that he had got up a dance. ‘I thought I would like to do something towards it, being so good to me while I was in Hospital there, so I have been able to get up a Dance in our village and I am glad to say I had a good company there to help towards it, being for a good cause, so I hope you will accept this order for £5, 9s. 0d.’
Private Cl—— enclosed 14s., with the words: ‘I try my best to help you the way I was cared for when I was there.’
A touching letter from the niece of a man who had been killed since his stay in the hospital, said: ‘... which my Mother’s brother was an inmate for a time wounded, I wish to state that he was killed at Bullecourt in France some few months afterwards. He was my Mother’s only brother, and she is now the only one left of the family. She wishes to most heartily thank all who cared and tendered for him whilst he lay so far from home. She also wishes to send a small donation of 2s. 6d. to help a little your grand and God given work.’
The wife of another man who had died sent £1, ‘on behalf of my Late Husband ... who died Feb. 28th, 1919, from Influenza and Lobar Pneumonia after a week’s illness. He was just demobed three weeks to the day we buried him. It will be a surprise to those who nursed him at Endell St. He often spoke about it of what they had done for him & the kindness shown to them the sister he said was a mother to him there was no hospital as good as Endell St. to him he had some real good times there & he never forgot them.’
Others became annual subscribers or filled collecting boxes, and their letters showed affectionate remembrance of the staff. ‘I was very Thankful for what I had done for me in Endell Street Hospital. And thanks for sending me the Photo of the Staff. As the Doctor is on it what attended me. So I can show it to my Friends.’
And again: ‘I was cared for kindly at that hospital and I was sorry to leave it. I was wounded twice after being at that Hospital but I wasn’t cared for anywhere else so kindly as I was at Endell St.’
Contributions came, too, from Australia and New Zealand, from Canada, America, and South Africa; and during the year 1920, enough money was subscribed to name a second cot after the Military Hospital, Endell Street.
Endell Street was a changed place. The dreary, empty wards, where equipment was collected and counted and checked, were miserable in their loneliness. The busy kitchen was handed over to the R.A.M.C. cook. The girls who remained counted linen and glass and china, or sorted cutlery, furniture, pianos, wheel-chairs, and all the hospital impedimenta. They concentrated on ledgers and registers. They entered and checked and corrected, from morning till night. Romance had gone out of the life and ‘Finis’ was written on the walls; but the old unquenchable cheerfulness still dominated the stores and offices.
The Office of Works invaded the buildings early in November. After that, workmen, who seemed to be always waiting for something or some one, hung round the empty wards and staircases. A discourteous foreman lounged about, with his hands in his pockets, and smoked and spat and pushed his way into the offices without asking permission. The noise in the square became intolerable: carts and vans and motor-lorries came and went constantly; workmen played football at all hours, and the bell clanged to summon them to and from work. In a confidential moment, an officer at Headquarters said that ‘the Office of Works was almost more than flesh and blood could bear.’ And the Doctor-in-Charge fully endorsed this opinion.
By the end of November the ledgers and returns were practically finished, and it was possible to demobilise the remaining members of the staff. When they separated, as they did reluctantly and with sorrow, the closure of the hospital was complete.
There was other work for professional people, like doctors and nurses and clerks, to take up; but the future was blank to the young girls who had been there so long and who were now to be unemployed. They missed the hospital and the hospital life sadly. In many cases there was no special place in the home circles for daughters who had been living away for some years; those who had experienced the joy of work and of responsibility, had to exchange these for the comparative inactivity of home-life. Parental restrictions had become unfamiliar and now seemed irksome to them; and they found unrelieved amusement a poor substitute for work. Thus they suffered considerably, until they were able to adapt themselves to new conditions or to find new openings.
The Doctor-in-Charge and Miss Draper, the chief compounder, were detained for some weeks longer to supervise the removal of the stores and equipment. Once this was accomplished, their work was finished, and on the 8th January 1920 the buildings were formally handed over.
The Office of Works took final possession of the premises, and devoted them to a different purpose under a quite different name, and ‘The Military Hospital, Endell Street,’ became a wonderful and cherished memory.
Printed in Great Britain by T. and A. Constable, Printers to His Majesty, at the Edinburgh University Press.