South Africa Odyssey , livre ebook

Tablo Pty Ltd - Michael Tyquin

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90 pages

English

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Description

It is early December 1898. New South Wales is about to send its first contingent of soldiers to South Africa to join British forces in the empire's fight against the Boers. It will be accompanied by the New South Wales Field Ambulance. Young Sydney doctor Mark Dunkley, a new and relatively junior officer in the Ambulance receives notice to join his unit for service abroad. We follow him during the excitement prior to embarking for the sea voyage, the development of his first romance, the activities of his unit, and the humour and tragedy that play out in wartime. The story unfolds against the backdrop of a brutal conflict and the reaction of men and women to this new type of warfare.

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Science Fiction

Fiction

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Publié par	Tablo Pty Ltd
Date de parution	24 juillet 2019
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781925993769
Langue	English

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0250€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

Extrait

Chapter One - Called to the Colours
Mark Dunkley GP returned to his inner city practice just as the sun reached its noonday high. Despite his 26 years he looked drawn and tired. In fact he was so tired that one or two of his earlier sweethearts may have struggled to recognize the handsome beau who had been the source of their attentions at a host of university balls and picnics. While at the University of Sydney the aspiring medical student had been awarded a half blue in rowing and was considered an asset on the ballroom floor. Like his father he was a keen punter and enjoyed attending race meetings at nearby Randwick. He was gifted with a decidedly charming personality and had enjoyed the company of several young ladies, but he found them too talkative, too ambitious or simply boring.
Until recently he had not found the 'right' girl as his mother was fond of telling him. He was really searching for a partner who shared his passion for life and living. It seemed that petite and reserved Emily Doherty – a qualified nurse at the Prince Alfred Hospital, daughter of a Sydney trading store magnate and a year older than her suitor, met his expectations. Dunkley had met his sweetheart at the Medical Ball the previous spring and had at once been struck by her classic beauty, particularly her red hair, and her intellectual strength. The couple had been walking out together since, although no formal announcement had been made of an engagement, which set some tongues wagging. While her experience of hospital wards had honed an already strong personality she had a sense of humour which she often used to great effect to draw Dunkley out of his 'brown' moods, as she called them.
She was also proud of him as a newly minted militia officer in the army medical corps and at her request wore his new blue and scarlet uniform to the formal dinner at which the couple announced their engagement. A week later she accompanied Dunkley to Victoria Barracks where he had papers to sign. His commander, Lieutenant Colonel Robards, a man devoted to his wife of many years, found himself looking after Emily's figure as the pair left his office with Dunkley. Emily Doherty was a woman of strong character who had almost fallen out with her father, Sir James Doherty, when as a teenager she steadfastly maintained her desire to pursue a career as a nurse. Sir James was understandably disappointed that he had put his eldest daughter though an expensive private school, followed by a year in Geneva, and was hoping for a political alliance in the form of her marriage to a leading politician, Sir Robert Smart.
But Emily had other ideas and took herself on a steamer to London to attend the Nightingale School. Her ambition, charm and natural abilities soon marked her out as a leader. After only two years she was appointed private nurse to Harley Street specialist, Sir Michael Barnett, before returning to the colonies in 1896. On her return she was appointed assistant matron at Sydney’s public hospital where her skill brought her to the attention of that institution’s honorary surgeon, Doctor William Williams, who was also the senior medical officer in the colony’s tiny defence force.
She had definite ideas on the place of women and soon raised the issues of female military nurses with Colonel William. After months of official meetings and cables between Sydney and the War Office in London the NSW Militia was authorized to found an Army nursing corps. Emily’s personal contacts and her reputation soon drew to her a number of enthusiastic young nurses who were not only public spirited, but shared their leader’s taste for adventure. That would come soon enough. Williams was sufficiently impressed by her no nonsense approach to medical care that he appointed her first matron of the nursing corps. She took no small pleasure in reminding her prospective fiancée that they now had equal rank, or at least she held the honorary rank of captain.
'Well, don't get any ideas above your station', he chided her.
'And what if I do?
'You might end up in South Africa looking after some wretched Boer farmer. How would you like that?'
'I should like it very well. A patient is a patient as you know.'
And so the banter went on each time they met.
Dunkley had been calling on patients since early morning. His visits had included the straight forward, but unexpected delivery of two red-faced boys of Mrs. Woodruff, the butcher's wife. The man had still to get over the surprise. As he tossed his hat onto the hallway table Dunkley was met by his diminutive housekeeper.
‘Oh doctor, here is an urgent cable come for you.’
‘Thank you Mrs. Ryan, I am done in.’
He took the wire without looking at it and went immediately to his little study, which looked directly onto the sun-soaked street. He grimaced at the cacophony made by the cicadas in the trees.
‘Would a cup of tea be in order?’ he asked as he opened the door.
‘Certainly, doctor,’ replied Mrs. Ryan.
‘Oh, and Mrs. Chomely is here again for her back.’
‘Very good, I’ll see her directly.’
He closed the door behind him, dropped his medical bag, a graduation gift from his proud parents, on the floor; placed the message on his desk and settled heavily into his leather chair. He gazed out the window onto the sun-soaked street, then rubbing his eyes with one hand he picked up the cable. It bore the cipher O.H.M.S. which adorned all the colony's official correspondence. He opened it gently with a tortoise-shell paper knife.
‘CAPTAIN DUNKLEY, NSWAMC, it began, REPORT TO PMO VICTORIA BARRACKS REF SERVICE FOR SOUTH AFRICA. IMMEDIATE. SGND LT COL.WILKES.’
‘Dear God', he thought, closing his eyes. For several months the colony had been swept up in a brief bout of imperial fervour, and only ten weeks previously he had signed up and volunteered his services for South Africa. He had a sudden twinge of guilt as he wondered for the first time if his decision lay behind Emily's push for a military nurses.
There had been no indication that his unit would be called upon to ‘do their bit’, as his sergeant major called it. He had attended drill weekends and a week-long bush camp with his stretcher-bearers. They formed B Company of the New South Wales Field Ambulance. The ambulance was staffed by of six officers and eighty-five Other Ranks drawn from all over Sydney and its surrounding districts, stretching from the Blue Mountains to the coastal belt south of Wollongong.
Dunkley enjoyed the break with routine that the militia training provided, and he was quite proud of his new uniform. His sisters had more than once told him that he cut a dashing figure in it, but since the first euphoric days of the colony's flirtation with war in the previous year, he could feel the excitement gradually leaving him. And really he had put it out of his mind until now, what with a growing practice and all.
The newspapers, fed by their correspondents in the field, ran continuous seesaw reports of defeats and victories, but there was more jingoism than fact and he rarely glanced at anything more than the headlines. News from the war competed with reports of local cricket games, sheep and cattle sales and large advertisements proclaiming a host of sure cures and the latest women’s fashions. There was also information about colonial politicians as they tried to whip their local electorates into something approaching enthusiasm over the forthcoming federation of Australia. But it was the racing page that usually received his undivided attention. The newspaper reports baffled many of his friends, as everyone thought that the Boers were now a spent force.
As his father liked to say 'After all they are up against the greatest empire in world!'
Like most of his countrymen, Dunkley felt nothing more than curiosity about battles in far off South Africa. British and colonial casualties had been slight and he was not entirely convinced of the justice of the British fighting groups of Dutch farmers and miners.
The rattle of a tea service, which the housekeeper set down by his desk, interrupted his thoughts.
‘Thank you Mrs. Ryan. I'll see Mrs. Chomley but I shan't see any other patients until after luncheon.’
‘Very good, doctor.’
He suffered the poor woman's banter before ushering her out with a prescription. Taking his hat from the hallway he followed her out.
He pulled a watch from his waistcoat and glanced at it before stepping lightly off the horse tram at Victoria Barracks. Straightening his Homburg squarely on his head, he walked past two newly khaki-clad sentries at the massive sandstone gate. He reported to the office of the Principal Medical Officer and waited in the dim anteroom. A wheezy staff sergeant sat at a small desk absorbed in a mountain of documents. A huge blowfly struggled vainly against a windowpane, while outside the muffled sounds of parade ground drill could be heard. He was in the process of removing a pocket book from his jacket when the outer door opened and a long-time friend, Captain Louis O'Reilly strode through it.
‘Good Lord, you too eh?’ he exclaimed with the hint of an Irish brogue and smiled boyishly.
As Dunkley rose, the other man shot out a hand and shook that of his friend.
‘I expect we all received our orders. The old man will be in a tizz. He has been looking forward to this ever since the Battle of Colenso.’
‘Let's hope he won't be disappointed,’ rejoined Dunkley.
A bespectacled red-tabbed officer beckoning him through the door interrupted their laughter.
'Ah, Captain Dunkley, do step in.'
When it was O'Reilly's turn the men cherrio-ed each other. They would meet again soon enough to join their unit in its preparations to leave for the fighting.
Thus began, as for many professional men who belonged to the militia, an anxious time for the young medicos of the ambulance. They set their affairs in order, arranged for changes in operating theatre lists with hospitals and sought reliable doctors to act as locums in