Monday, 29 November 2010
Diary Entry - 29th November, 1915
I had a very bad night. I felt as if I had a temperature and spent half the night shivering. The doctor comes round after breakfast and says I have a chill and must remain inside all day, giving me quinine and aspirin pills to eat in quantities. The doc calls again in the afternoon and drives the O.C. and Captain Griffith out of the Mess. He is a very deep-thinking, quiet Irishman, who never utters a word, but sits and gazes at his patients, and my impression is that he tries to hypnotise you. However, after sitting here for about 20 minutes, he takes my temperature et cetera and says I must go to bed soon after tea, and with those commands he bids farewell.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Ah now, there is an under-current here, either that or me thinking too deeply.
ReplyDeleteThis doctor, one presumes, sees many many men on the front. He sees many men with cold/flu and he sees many men overcome with the magnitude of their own situation.
I wonder which one this turns out to be. I am liking the openness of your grandfather.
My paternal grandfather was 35 in 1914 and very anti-war mainly (I think) because he was a lazy man and very anti-work. He did not join up and was sent white feathers in the post.
My maternal grandfather served on the Western Front, was gassed, and had a lung and alcohol problem for the rest of his long life.
The chain-smoking for his nerves did not help his lungs either.
ReplyDeleteOh that's an interesting insight - of course, he just sat there and waited to see what the other bloke said. Very clever.
ReplyDeleteWhatever your grandfather's reasons, the white feather thing was always so shocking. I think there's a chilling episode in On the Black Hill by Bruce Chatwin involving white feathers, isn't there?