Shea Toner

The Last Letter

By: Shea Toner
A Short Story: World War 1
On February 21st, 1916, The Battle of Verdun broke out in a rage. We were
stationed in Germany when the first bomb shell was fired, it was gloomy and murky,
dust filled the air just as the sun began to rise. The nurses were already up taking care
of the sick and wounded from previous battles. The second, then third bombs were fired
and I heard this from the small hospital room as I was taking care of a young man of 17,
the same age as my little brother. He had been shot in the back of the knee multiple
times by a machine gun. The horrid sounds of battle embedded within the minds of
everyone around. Days and Nights went by as the number of dead soldiers tallied in an
atmosphere of terror that was beyond comprehensible. The true feeling of death and
terror that was present within the sights and sounds everywhere.
At the age 19, my younger brother by 2 years and I were recruited into war.
I became a nurse and assisted the healing soldiers. I had been training to be a nurse for
two years while my brother was recruited to stand tall as a soldier and fight for our
safety. My name is Diane Allen and my brothers is Joseph Allen. Although I did not want
to go into this horrific scene, I went in with open arms and healing hands, as another
chapter in my life. For the first couple of months we did everything in our power to save
and heal the wounded. within the first week of arriving we counted more than 530
fatalities. That number seemed to be a lot at the time, but nearly doubled as we
experienced living hell for the weeks to follow.
I remember the morning of Tuesday, May 16 when I heard the scream of agony
and pain, which still echoes in my head. A man had been shot in the back several times.
We rushed a damaged stretcher 3 miles out to the fields and quickly moved him back to
the hospital room where there was only one of the six beds empty. We removed the
bullets as he gripped the sheets aggressively in agony. From there all we had was dirty
gauze found on the shelf to pack the bullet wounds that were oozing with fresh blood.
The man, Phil Basin, had to stay in the bed for one night and two days. Phil kept
repeating a sentence during procedures and his words were exactly the same; Tell my
mom how strong and loving she is, that she means the world to me and I am safe now.
I told the man there is no need, that he would survive and be with them again. Although
many had passed that day and my brother and I were emotionally struggling, we were
still physically strong. By that point at least we had that on our side.
The following days passed and we packed up and went north toward Verdun. At
8 oclock in the morning we journeyed 10 to 12 miles with full packs, tents and weapons.
We had left some wounded back at home with the other two nurses to help care for the
sick, while three of us traveled together. By the time we finished setting up camp the
sun was setting and we had built a warm fire and shared stories about childhood. This
reminded me of the stories my mom told Joseph and I before bed every night, it was
about two young kids. They would go to the local market on Sunday mornings to get the
fresh eggs, milk and cheese that were brought in daily from the farm. After walking back

three or four miles along the dirt roads, they would have breakfast before 9 oclock
mass that they attended weekly. At that time in the story I would usually fall fast asleep.
During this time Bill had been telling a tall tale about the forest and I proceeded
towards my tent, snuggled up in the blankets provided and dozed off looking through
the opening into the sky. It was a clear night and many stars were shining bright. I
thought about life at home and going to sleep after a dinner I had made with my loving
mother. Then waking up in a stable bed, giving each and everyone in my family a loving
hug and kiss, eating a delicious home cooked meal and then going for a walk in the
small town of Germany. At that time I felt a break from the injured, careless and
somewhat free from my own mind. The night grew old and I mellowed into deep sleep.
Given I had not really slept in weeks. The next morning I knew we were in for another
long day of travel further towards the hills of Verdun.
On the night of May 17, 1916 the bombing had broke out and we were fired at
rapidly. The troops fired back using a two man machine guns, killing multiple French
troops. At that point we heard many troops yell Gasmasken, Gasmasken, Gasmasken
as the air filled with toxins. The French had set up pipes across the field and released
gas, in which the gas could fill up ones lungs and not kill instantly but slowly with
inhalations of poison. The men who did not hear the voiced message of applying their
masks would just drop two by two with each second passing. After the gas was released
the battle became quiet, men had just slept right where they had stood in the fields. We
packed up and carried on with heavy shoulders, sturdy feet and scarred hands.
While out at camp, I had taken care of 57 wounds that should be further held with
care but there was no time. The men were brave enough to keep fighting for our
country, even though they were badly wounded.
We finally had a couple of weeks without warfare, these weeks were filled with
preparation for whenever the next outbreak would be. These days were not calming or
relaxing, many were sick from not eating healthy or fulfilling meals. There would be
multiple days without even one meal and hard working labor. Most men became very
weak and ill. At this point, we started coming up with ways to eat a meal every day. A
couple miles away is where the cows and sheep would graze. Every three days, at least
two men would travel over and travel back with a dead cow. This cow would weigh
about 300-500 pounds and would feed all of us until the next animal was slaughtered.
We always had a fire going and when hungry, we would cook a part of the cow over the
heated fire. This resolved the weakness that people had down on the western front and
gave energy to the men to carry on more preparation for the next warfare to come.
The nurses were not greatly appreciated for their duties in World War 1; we were
unwelcomed and we were not even given a rank. But the nurses still sacrificed and
persevered as being members of the navy. Although in 1908, Lenah Higbee the first
nurse to join the navy was recognized as a hardworking women and she was quickly
appointed Chief Nurse. Because of Ms. Higbees selfless nature and hard work a great
ship took her name in honor of the devotion towards helping. This was the first naval
combat ship to be named after a female member. Us nurses look up to Lenah as a role
model in our works of healing others, and help cure their sickness and wounds.
Dinner was cooked, tonight we had a feast of food ahead of us. All day we had
been looking forward to this delicious meal. The meal for the night, prepared by a group
of nurses and a couple of soldiers smelled incredible. The aroma of freshly cooked

vegetables floated through the air, celery, lettuce and tomato, the scent was mouth
watering. Everything was brought together with fresh cow meat, the most amazing smell
at the time, ready to feed approximately 230 people. We set up the food for everyone to
serve themselves, once everyone got their food we sat down in a circle to thank God for
this wonderful meal he had blessed us with. John had started the prayer Bless us Oh
Lord, and these thy gifts that we are about to receive through Christ our Lord.
We began to eat and the sun was peaceful as it set behind the hills. This was the
calm before the storm as the silent moment came to an end. The air raid had started up
and outrage had broken out. This was it, the one, the one we had been preparing for as
the bloodiest rage of humankind. We had the past three months to prepare for this
battle and we did with gas masks, machine guns, airplanes that were made of canvas,
beyonnets, pistols, rifles, tanks, horses, grenades and trenches for shelter. We had this
time to prepare and still seemed underprepared compared to the French troops.The
firing shook the ground in a constant vibration due to how many shells were set off
towards us, pain echoed through the hills and we attacked. The barbed wired fences
were hovered over with dead bodies and puddles below of blood. The scene was gored
and gruesome. I suddenly went into shock, the deep thoughts, painful noises of friends
and close members crying and suffering. My body was in a complete freeze and I was
in a complete daze of disturbance. Another nurse had been calling my name DIANE,
DIANE, DIANE your brother! I had finally come back to my senses and my brother was
being carried off the field in the stretcher, the air was polluted and filled with dust.
Joseph was completely unconscious, I had no idea what had happened. I rushed over
to where the nurses had laid him down, he was awfully bloody and wounded in many
places but the worst was in the chest, it looked like he was shot multiple times.
We went into immediate surgery to remove bullets and shrapnel that was
pierced into his skin. It took us about an hour or two to remove all the pieces from the
wounds. At that point, I felt I couldnt stop procedures because I wanted to fight for my
brothers life. We wrapped his chest with tissue to absorb the blood and taped it tightly to
stop the excessive flow, for he had lost a mass amount of blood. Joseph started to
come to realization.
What happened? In a scratchy/ quiet voice.
You were terribly wounded by the shrapnels and shot multiple times, I had not
seen exactly what occurred but you will be hospitalized for several days until you are
strong.
Thank you sis, I love you very much Joseph had responded.
I love you too brother, you are a very strong young man. My heart sunk and a
pain-filled tear ran down my face. I responded with a shaky voice as I held his hand
tightly and then walked away slowly in sorrow and distress.
Three days had past, my brother was up and moving, he was slow but it was
good to see the reaction in his body. We took things step by step so he could be fully
back on track. The fourth day we had removed the wrapping from his chest, it was not
completely closed up but it was time. The wound was very sensitive, bruised and a little
bloody. Joseph had gone to bed and so did I, we were both very tired, but excited to see
improvements. I had a slight doubt at first that he was not going to make it.
The next morning, John came rushing up to me in full panic. Joseph is hurting, he
cant get up from bed, its his chest again.

I rushed to his tent and asked what had been aching so badly, he was just crying
in pain and had no response. I opened up his buttoned top and the wound had been
bleeding more which I found normal but there was also white pus around the edges of
the cut. I was not too sure what that could be besides maybe an infection. I had two of
the other nurses come look at the wound to see if they knew what the white stuff was.
Sure enough it was an infection that was separate from his wound, we identified it as
influenza. Mary, a nurse, had seen this infection before with past soldiers but not quite
as bad as Josephs. The infection had made his whole chest swell down into his
stomach. He was sick with vomiting and extreme nausea. Joseph had lost an immense
amount of blood, was dehydrated with an empty stomach. He looked very pale.
I hurried to gather supplies that would kill off any germs that were still living. I
also brought back a full canteen of water with a plate of food. Joe slowly drank the water
but the food did not sound appetizing to him. While he sipped on water, I carefully
applied alcohol onto his cuts as my hands were shaking terribly. When I poured it onto
Joes wound he screamed, while gripping the stretcher that he laid upon aggressively.
Mary, another nurse, had walked up and grabbed my hand tightly and the shaking
slowly come to a stop as she took over. I backed away and calmly sat next to my
brother while stroking a wet rag over his warm and clammy head. The apparent misery
in his eyes felt like a poison in my heart but I had to keep positive in my mind that it was
for the better of his healing. I gave him a high dose of pain medicine because I could not
stand to see my brother suffer from such discomfort, the medicine took about 40
minutes to set in, so we waited to proceed until his chest was numb.
Joseph asked Do you think Ill make it Diane? I feel so sick and weak he said
I dont know how much longer I can hang on.
Joseph you are the toughest young man I have ever met and you will fight your
hardest as I will too, to keep progression in your healing.
I have this letter for mother and father, if you would send it home. I wrote it the
week we were recruited. He was in tears and these tears werent from the pain in his
wounds but tears that were heartfelt and deep with love.
He held the letter tightly and close to his soul, he seemed hopeless from living,
and then handed me the letter. I stared for a moment at the piece of paper, it was beige
and torn with two drops of blood on the upper right corner and in the middle. Joseph let
go soon after, I was in such shock crying seemed impossible, like there was an empty
hole to never be filled again in my heart.
That night I laid wide awake, far from the tent site, sitting upon a hill and looking
across a musty black sky. The air tasted like dried blood and gunpowder. My clothes
had a cold smell and the sound was disturbing but silent. I sat there, holding onto the
letter my brother left. Curious to what might be written inside. I opened the letter slowly
and somewhat hesitant, the first words I read were Dear loving mother and leading
father, I stopped there as tears took over my emotions, then I took a big deep breath,
clearing the the bad air and bringing in fresh air that allowed me to carry on.
Dear loving mother and leading father,
Sorry goodbyes did not take place before our horrible recruiting, the morning
sister and I were taken replays very frequently in my head. It was a very awakening
moment. The men gave us no choice of going back, I miss you two very much.

Although this occurred very unexpectedly, I enjoy the people up here in Germany,
Im meeting many new faces and becoming very close, as we do everything together.
We have to wake up around 5 A.M. every morning for our daily run with the troops. My
friend John and I are the fastest runners and I am very proud. After our run, we eat our
breakfast that the nurses prepare, then we have intense training through different
courses, the Lieutenant George is always pushing us to work harder, which keeps me
on my feet and I always give it my all, as you taught me, Father.
I miss our little ball of excitement, Hercules and Im sure Diane misses our pups
too. How is he doing? Still enjoying every moment of life? Man if only he was up here
too, I know he would be a great guard dog, protecting his big brother and sister. Please
give him some hugs and kisses.
If I dont make it home, just know that you will forever be in my heart and be
loved from up above, I have faith in myself to stay strong. I know, Diane has the skills
for healing and always has open arms for incoming soldiers, I trust her and look up to
her in every way possible. I love you with everything I have to show it and miss our
family together at once. But I have to go, the Lieutenant is gathering us for supper so I
have to finish here.
Love Always & Forever in your Heart,
Your Son Joseph.
This is the end, the end of my night and the end of my story, after all I did not
have enough skills or healing hands to cure all the wounded soldiers but I sure did give
it my all. I feel as if it was my fault for Joseph's passing but I know he wants me to live
in happiness, as happy as I can possibly be. I will stand tall and fight for the living,
although my brothers gone, he is always by my side, with open arms and a faithful
heart.