‘Start getting these men into reception. I’ll find the doctors.’ Lucy hurried back to the operating theatre to find Malcolm and the other night surgeons were still there, relaxing with a bottle of brandy.
After Lucy explained about the German wounded, Colin, the surgeon who had helped with the transfusion, stood and said, ‘We’ll take care of this, Malcolm. You people get to bed. You too, Sister.’
‘There are fifty-three of them, or there were. You’ll need everyone’s help,’ Lucy said. ‘They’re in a bad way, so we’ve no time to waste. The more people helping, the more men will survive. I’ll stay. It’s why I joined.’
‘Even though they’re the enemy?’ Colin raised his eyebrows.
‘Enemy? I suppose they are, but they’re wounded men who need our help. They’ll be no threat.’
‘Good for you, young
