Dear Diary,
I walked down Main Street today only to notice that Ridgefield has become transformed
into an oasis of red, white and blue. The anxious anticipation for the war is palpable;
everyone is scrambling to prepare for what lies ahead. Each shop window display contains
colorful posters persuading men and women alike to join the forces and enlist in the
workforce. Last night a meeting was held in town hall, and a large amount of Ridgefield
men and women were in attendance. The mayor was very enthusiastic about encouraging the
people of our town to help out as much as possible. As a result of his speech, it seems as if
most men in Ridgefield have already begun training and getting ready for the rigors of the
unknown. The idea of helping out in the war had not occurred to me until I heard the
Mayor speak, for I was not aware of all the medical help that the war requires. However,
I couldn’t imagine saying goodbye to my parents and my home- I’m only 19… and as
brave as I might try to come across, deep inside I feel that I’m still only a little girl. Oh
well, I am just talking aloud, who knows what the next few weeks will hold for me. For
now, God Bless the USA…
Love Meg
Dear diary,
With all the talk of war, I have been seriously considering enlisting.
Pros
1. Saving lives
2. Using my
skills to help
people.
3. Breaking free
from my
parents
4. Meeting many
new people
5. Supporting my
country
Cons
1.
2.
3.
4.
5.
Leaving
everything
behind
Experiencing
death, and
possible
horrors of war
Living off
limited
supplies
Experiencing
a different life
style
Leaving my
family and
friends
This decision will be a very hard one, one of the hardest I have ever made. I was always
taught to go with my first instinct; I think I may be leading towards enlisting.
Meg.
Dear Diary,
I did it! I enlisted. All my life, I have allowed my parents to make decisions for me and
choose the paths I take in life. Choosing to enlist is the first time I have made a choice on
my own without their interference. It feels good to be able to take initiative on my own and
take a path for my own future. Joining the war as a nurse, allows me to go over seas and
experience things I would never have been able to experience in Ridgefield. I will meet new
people, experience a new culture, and gain a new understanding of ways of life. My
parents always keep me from doing things on my own, however they can’t stop me from
doing this. Finally, for the first time, I can take charge of my life. I’m very excited and
anxious to go overseas; I am a little frightened. I have to leave my home to go help men in
an unknown war, in an unknown place. I don’t know how this is all going to turn out,
however I hope that it turns into the positive experience that I think it will be.
Love,
Meg
Dear Diary,
Shirts, pants, under garments, dresses, hats, uniform, and badge. All week I have been
eagerly packing and getting ready to say my farewells. Once I arrive I will receive more
equipment from the Navy & Army Nurses Corps. They also supply us with all of the
materials that we need for the battle fronts. My ship leaves at 1 pm today in New London
and I am extremely nervous to go off to war. I’ve heard of the horrors on Western Front
and that they are created by the devil himself. I hope that all of my training at the
Danbury Hospital will prepare me for wounds that I must dress up, the legs that I must
amputate and the blood that I must endure.
The trip from Ridgefield to New London is a long one and I’ll have more time to think,
pray and wonder. Time to leave... I’m waiting at the port and about to get on the big boat
that will take me to my destination. Good bye and God Bless America
Love
Meg
Dear Diary,
I have been assigned to an infirmary near the front lines where they are in need of
aid. My daily schedule is incredibly hectic and I perform about twenty-five operations a
day. I am hardly able to get sleep and the living conditions are not ideal. It is shocking to
wake up every morning to the sound of guns and artillery going off. Life in the infirmary is
almost like life in the trenches; the soldiers continually fire and load their guns, just like I
go from one operation to the next. Life on the front is not what I imagined it to be, the sound
of gun shots are continuous and caravans of severely wounded and nearly dead soldiers
come in every day. Many soldiers’ conditions are so horrible that their lives cannot be
spared. Today, a soldier was carted in who had been exposed to poison gas. He was
coughing his lungs up and it was my job to look him in the eye and tell him that he would
be ok, even though I know this was impossible.
The wounds I see here are nothing like I saw back in the hospital. It is such a
different environment and it is hard to adapt to the differences and the realization of
massive numbers of soldiers dying each day. Some of the different conditions that were
revealed to me when I arrived are poison gas, which consist of eye, nasal, and lung
irritants. Many different battle wounds exist such as gun shots and artillery wounds that
more often than not need amputations. Life in the trenches is unsanitary and this causes the
spread of bacteria to increase rapidly. Influenza patients are treated in the infirmary to
avoid an epidemic. The unsanitary circumstances also cause Trench fever and a spread of
lice. Other conditions I tend to encounter on a daily basis are capillary hemorrhages and
also psychiatric cases of shell shock, which were the mental effects of the war experience.
There was not a cure for shell shock and to come across soldiers who risked their
life to fight for their country was heart-breaking to see that it put them in this negative
mental state. My first day was the hardest for me at the infirmary and I couldn’t get sleep
that whole night. Life at war was such a shock and witnessing all the various injuries was
unfamiliar to me. At first, it was so challenging for me to see the young soldiers dying
under my care when their motive to fight was to protect their country. I am still learning to
keep my emotions out of my work but I cannot help but think what each fighter is
sacrificing for the good of his country. I must go to bed because I only have a six hour
period to sleep and have to wake up rested to perform operations and save as many lives
of heroic soldiers as I can.
Meg
Dear Diary,
There was a terrible attack on our American soldiers entrenched nearby. I could
hear the shells going off but the screams were faintly heard, part of the background noise.
After the explosions ceased, the screams grew louder and I could feel the need to save the
lives of many men would soon be urgent. The hospitality building was more crowded than
the pubs I used to go to on a Friday night and the screams were in pain rather than joy.
The wounded men were carried in on blood stained stretchers and would ironically stand
out if they were not screaming in agony. The sounds of the room drowned itself out as a
man unconsciously was wheeled into the hospitality ward. I had just bandaged a man
with a wounded head and left him screaming so that I could tend to the next patient. The
sleeping man seemed so peaceful lying in the middle of chaos. I saw his ankle bleeding
excessively as the man wheeling him through the door shoved the stretcher into my hands.
He screamed “The man dove into the trench n’ landed on his head. He may wake up. He
might not.” I lifted the man into a cot as a recently deceased man was pulled off of it by
another nurse. As I laid his head on the pillow, he opened his eyes calmly as if to say “I
am in your hands now”.
He then looked to the side at his wounded comrades and closed his eyes once again.
The stretchers slowed their trips to the battlefield and the wailing of injured men faded
away as many slipped into a sleep they would never come out of. The peaceful man was
awake and sitting up sleepily. His ankle was broken and bandaged. There was something
different about this man. He looked at me and smiled as I walked over to check on his
head. I was told to wake him every two hours to make sure he didn’t fall into a coma from
the concussion he had from diving into the trench. My friend told me to take care of the men
with only one injury because it was easier. I had been working hard non-stop since 6 in the
morning and the sun had set many hours ago. For some reason I refused because I wanted
to stay with this man. His name was Christophe. He was something special to me, one
person who I instantly felt a connection with in this vast foreign country that was new and
strange to so many people. Once my shift was over I didn’t return to where we slept I went
back to Christophe I sat by his bed talking to him. He couldn’t respond with more then a
nod of his head or slight grunt of agreement, but he would soon be able to speak and I
hoped we would soon forge an amazing relationship. In the days that followed he became
more and more someone I could talk to and share all of my mixed feelings about the
horrors of war that I experienced first hand day in and day out. I fell in love with a man
without having him utter one word.
Meg
Dear diary,
The war is devastating the area. Every day I receive more patients that require
serious treatment. The victims that are being transported to my station have gruesome
dismemberments that have opened my eyes to the horrors of war. I get used to these grizzly
effects and situations that this awful war has caused.
I have learned many new
treatments through my experiences with the soldiers being cared for here. I have learned
how to cure trench-foot, a very deforming condition. However, through the efforts of my
comrades and me, we have been able to cure and save many of the patients. I have to go
treat a poison gas victim at the moment. Until tomorrow.
Dear diary,
Today, as I entered the recovery room, I observed that Christophe was being treated
for his bedsores and was receiving his morning medications. I began a conversation with
him. It seems as though he his recovering very well from his concussion. Although these
discussions of the dirty conditions in the trenches don’t seem to be fulfilling my desire to
know more about this mysterious man. Perhaps in a day’s time my thirst for knowledge of
his past will be quenched. I must go, for a shell has exploded near the hospital and my
assistance is required to aid the injured soldiers. Until tomorrow.
Dear diary,
I’m sorry I haven’t written in a few days. The hospital has been extremely hectic
and in a desperate time of need. I can barely have the pleasure of seeing the French
soldier. I believe that he has been moved to a different hospital and is no longer under my
care. I pray soon to visit him again. More things have been occurring in the hospital. I’m
sorry, but I must leave. I shall talk to you another day. Oh how I wish I knew how
Christophe was doing. Until tomorrow.
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