The doctor paused before speaking, “To be totally honest with you…I think the surgeon is looking to train people up to go to The Front with him. He intends setting up a casualty clearing station there, as there is great need. It shall be arranged by the RAMC, The Royal Army Medical Corps.”
“The Front?” She blinked several times. It was something she had admired others for, especially Doctor Elsie Inglis who had set up her own hospital for the war wounded.
“Don’t think you got the mettle for it?” Woodrow-Smythe teased.
“I think I could give it a go, yes, but what about my training?”
“My dear,” the doctor said, sitting forward in his chair, “what better training could there be for you? Granted you’d be thrown in the deep end, but that’s the way to learn!”
“I shall have to give this some serious consideration,” she said, all of a sudden feeling extremely shaky indeed. One moment she had entered the lion’s den thinking she was to have an extreme ticking off, the next she was being put forward as a surgeon on the Western Front. She’d once thought of going as a nurse there, but never in a million years thought she’d get to work as a doctor out there.