Walter Kennett had first seen Sylvia Marks the day Christopher died. Chris was brought into Royaumont with several men who’d all been caught in a blast that had hit their command post. Walter had hardly recognised him under all the mud and he’d barely been conscious anyway. Just enough to say “Walt? Is that you?” in a haze as Walter began stripping him and washing as much of the stinking mud off as he could before the doctors came round to examine the new intake. They only got the worst cases here now…had done for a while, since the brass had worked out that the lady doctors had a better surgical survival rate.
Walter was one of the handful of male nurses on site, seconded from the Royal Army Medical Corps at the beginning when they needed extra nursing hands. Once they’d got the hospital
