the wide expanse of beach she was immediately stuck by the debris of a battle.
“Where do you think you are going, Miss?”
The bellowed question made Vera start, and turn to see a British military policeman striding towards her.
“I’m going back to England, I hope,” she shouted back.
“Well you won’t get there that way. There’s mines ahead. Come over here.”
It was comforting to find a British soldier.
Once she had been joined by the tough-looking man - with a revolver that was easy for him to get at - he looked her up and down suspiciously. “Are you hoping to swim the channel, eh?”
She took out the papers Geoffrey had given her, and snatching them he looked them over. Then pointing to a pillbox he barked at her, “Go over to there. Stay with the casualties waiting to be evacuated.”
“Yes, sir,” Vera said cheekily. It was strangely reassuring being bossed around and told what to do.
I wasn’t easy to push her bicycle over the churned up sand, but she didn’t want to leave it in France if she could possibly take it back to England. Especially as the German soldier had repaired it for her it was like new. But she soon forgot about it when she reached the canvas protecting the scores of injured soldiers waiting for a boat to take them home.
Almost at once she realised she could help the nurses with tending the sick. Just being there and talking to them, or helping a Queen Alexandra’s Royal Army Nurse assist an injured soldier made her useful.
The skilled nurses were amongst the first British servicewomen to come to Normandy after D-Day, but they were tired and glad of Vera’s help.
Grey-faced, some of the men were shivering from pain even under their blankets and needed someone to reassure them.
A little yelp make her look to see a prone man hiding an Alsatian puppy under his blanket, which he told Vera he’d found wandering about lost.
“Don’t tell the Sister I have her under my blanket,” he whispered, “Or she’ll make me give it up.”
The lad was badly wounded and she hadn’t the heart to take the little animal from him. She even managed to find a drink for the puppy when the nurses weren’t looking. He seemed so grateful.
Full of sympathy, she stayed and talked to him when she could.
“What’s your name?”
“Fred.”
“Where do you come from?”
“Newcastle.”
Vera only had a vague idea about the North of England, but she listened to him tell about his football team and how he did the pools every week if he could afford it on his meagre soldier’s pay. She held his hand and tried to comfort him as she thought his mother, or sister, or girl friend would do.
But hours later after Vera and the soldier had been put on board a boat to be taken back to England, she found the soldier had died.
She now had a puppy, as well as a bicycle, to take home.
.
CHAPTER NINE
NO-one took much notice of her when they landed. All the attention was given to talking the injured off the boat and into waiting ambulances. Vera hid the puppy in her bicycle basket and managed to get a sailor to lift the bike off the boat and onto the quay.
She felt elated to have her feet on English soil again.
The last few weeks were behind her as though they had been a nightmare – and yet parts of the dream in France had been strangely pleasant - meeting Geoff, and her time in the French house cooking.
So much had happened to her in the past few weeks. Unbelievable experiences. Her mind was in a whirl thinking about what she’d been though. She wanted cry with relief that she was still alive - and yet she felt like singing with joy.
But where am I? Where should I go?
Standing around on the quay, with this strangely dazed feeling, and wondering what to do, she was soon told to move on by a military policeman, and so she began move. Why she felt so incapable of doing anything even though was safely back in England she couldn’t understand. It didn’t make sense.
A
“Where do you think you are going, Miss?”
The bellowed question made Vera start, and turn to see a British military policeman striding towards her.
“I’m going back to England, I hope,” she shouted back.
“Well you won’t get there that way. There’s mines ahead. Come over here.”
It was comforting to find a British soldier.
Once she had been joined by the tough-looking man - with a revolver that was easy for him to get at - he looked her up and down suspiciously. “Are you hoping to swim the channel, eh?”
She took out the papers Geoffrey had given her, and snatching them he looked them over. Then pointing to a pillbox he barked at her, “Go over to there. Stay with the casualties waiting to be evacuated.”
“Yes, sir,” Vera said cheekily. It was strangely reassuring being bossed around and told what to do.
I wasn’t easy to push her bicycle over the churned up sand, but she didn’t want to leave it in France if she could possibly take it back to England. Especially as the German soldier had repaired it for her it was like new. But she soon forgot about it when she reached the canvas protecting the scores of injured soldiers waiting for a boat to take them home.
Almost at once she realised she could help the nurses with tending the sick. Just being there and talking to them, or helping a Queen Alexandra’s Royal Army Nurse assist an injured soldier made her useful.
The skilled nurses were amongst the first British servicewomen to come to Normandy after D-Day, but they were tired and glad of Vera’s help.
Grey-faced, some of the men were shivering from pain even under their blankets and needed someone to reassure them.
A little yelp make her look to see a prone man hiding an Alsatian puppy under his blanket, which he told Vera he’d found wandering about lost.
“Don’t tell the Sister I have her under my blanket,” he whispered, “Or she’ll make me give it up.”
The lad was badly wounded and she hadn’t the heart to take the little animal from him. She even managed to find a drink for the puppy when the nurses weren’t looking. He seemed so grateful.
Full of sympathy, she stayed and talked to him when she could.
“What’s your name?”
“Fred.”
“Where do you come from?”
“Newcastle.”
Vera only had a vague idea about the North of England, but she listened to him tell about his football team and how he did the pools every week if he could afford it on his meagre soldier’s pay. She held his hand and tried to comfort him as she thought his mother, or sister, or girl friend would do.
But hours later after Vera and the soldier had been put on board a boat to be taken back to England, she found the soldier had died.
She now had a puppy, as well as a bicycle, to take home.
.
CHAPTER NINE
NO-one took much notice of her when they landed. All the attention was given to talking the injured off the boat and into waiting ambulances. Vera hid the puppy in her bicycle basket and managed to get a sailor to lift the bike off the boat and onto the quay.
She felt elated to have her feet on English soil again.
The last few weeks were behind her as though they had been a nightmare – and yet parts of the dream in France had been strangely pleasant - meeting Geoff, and her time in the French house cooking.
So much had happened to her in the past few weeks. Unbelievable experiences. Her mind was in a whirl thinking about what she’d been though. She wanted cry with relief that she was still alive - and yet she felt like singing with joy.
But where am I? Where should I go?
Standing around on the quay, with this strangely dazed feeling, and wondering what to do, she was soon told to move on by a military policeman, and so she began move. Why she felt so incapable of doing anything even though was safely back in England she couldn’t understand. It didn’t make sense.
A
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