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She was born 24 February 1894 and left Barts as a qualified SRN in November 1920. She then returned to Barts for a six week duty as a Sister 2 in 1923. Much of her training period involved nursing WW1 soldiers in the surgical wards, which her family think may explain her interest in army nursing. In her student records she is described as having done six months work as a nursing auxiliary in a military hospital prior to entering Barts as a probationer. Below are the war diaries describing her experiences with the QAs at various CCSs in Europe as part of the WW2 British Liberation Army. She was called up at age 50 as a QA reservist. These war diary extracts have been kindly provided by her family, who knew her as Aunt Madge, taken from four closely-typed pages of foolscap flimsy and is an account of her days with the BLA from landing in Normandy all through the trek to the German border. It makes fascinating reading. In those notes she refers to previous QA service in India. After the war Sister Price became Matron of a Sussex nursing home and entertained Princess Alexandra when she came to open a new wing. She wore her QA medallion. Sister Price died in 1983. It has always been the tradition of the Q.A.I.M.N.S. to serve wherever they are needed. In peacetime this may mean anywhere in the British Empire, in wartime in all theatres of war in places as far apart as Iceland or Singapore, Scotland or Mesopotamia, and in the present stage of the war, on the Continent or in Burma. We are now at what we know is the final phase of the war, and since June of last year, a very large proportion of the Service is with the British Liberation Army – having followed the troops across the Channel, camped in Normandy orchards and trekked across North France and Flanders into the countryside of Belgium and the villages of Holland near to the Western borders of Germany. In order to be of use to the Army, it is as well to know how they live, just as those who have experienced illness can tell far better than those who have never been ill, what it feels like. We are all apt to be slightly un-imaginative about something which troubles us personally not at all, but when we have lived it for ourselves, it means something and that knowledge can be translated into practical efficiency. Like the men, our units mobilised in U.K. and when the time came, proceeded to a marshalling area, ready for embarkation. This meant living in a transit camp until we left England. These camps are remarkably well run and we lived in great comfort. The food was excellent, there were hot and cold showers, and even organised entertainment in the form of a cinema. The only drawback was that we now had to break off communication with the outside world, owing to security being such a vital matter. We felt rather like disembodied spirits, as though still at home, no news could be given to one’s family. However, the period was a busy enough time for most units as there was less than 24 hours to wait and our minds were on personal equipment and how to compress all necessities into the most portable form. Throughout the hours in camp, a business-like voice could be heard issuing instructions over a loudspeaker to those who were due to depart. Our turn came at the reasonable hour of 6.30a.m. Breakfast was at 7 a.m. and departure was timed for 8 a.m. for the nearest port. Here again, all was rapid and well-organised – no more than time for a cup of tea before we went up the gangway onto a Hospital Carrier. We were the first members of the Service to be transported on that particular Carrier and the staff on board were somewhat tickled to see their colleagues laden like pack-horses struggling up the gangway. Tin helmets, water bottles, gas masks, haversacks, were all carried slung like those of the men. The crossing was quiet and uneventful and again we had every facility for washing, much appreciated as we always expected each time to be the last. We slept in our clothes that night, anchored off the French coast, and although there was a certain amount of air activity overhead it was easy enough to pass right out in the rather drugged atmosphere of a rigid black-out. We were ashore next morning by 9 a.m. and it was a good feeling to know that we were following up those who had stormed the beaches on D-Day. Everyone left behind in England after June 6th knows how empty the country seemed when all the troops had left. How quiet London appeared, how different the journey in a train where one could get a compartment to oneself instead of standing in a corridor lined with the British Army. Well, it was our turn to be among them now "over there" and our privilege to live under the same conditions. We came to it feeling lucky to be in it and although there are times when this feeling wears thin, because it is no longer a novelty, I doubt if anyone would want to be without the experience. The next few weeks must be sketched quickly because we were not working. General impressions stand out, the dusty ride from the beach over bad roads to our destination in Normandy. The welcome given us by the men who caught sight of us passing, and seemed glad to know we were with them. Journey’s end for that day was another transit camp attached to a large hospital, and there we stayed for ten days, adapting ourselves to being under canvas. When the weather was good it seemed like a summer holiday in rather peculiar surroundings. When bad, we tried to adjust ourselves, rather painfully, to walking across two sodden, muddy fields to breakfast wearing the invaluable army boots, tin hats and gas capes for protection. Off again after ten days to stake out a claim on our own field with our own board outside showing that we counted at last among the "also rans" in Harley Street – so called because the road was lined with the Medical profession. This field seemed particularly wet and the tents had a nauseating habit of falling down when the gales started. We often felt we were qualified for the rum ration at that time, especially the night when the Post Office collapsed and our sodden letters were brought back the next day to be re-written. However, we developed some sort of routine and in between the business of lighting the Soya stoves to get ourselves and our clothes clean, we found time to lorry-hop into the nearest town for the odd spot of entertainment at the E.N.S.A. Theatre. Meanwhile, history was in the making and the victorious sweep of our armies across Flanders was under way, so it was only a question of time for us to follow. When the hour came it was a very early one and we rose at 4 a.m., packed by candle-light, had breakfast at 4.30 a.m. and were away before dawn. We were lucky in having good weather and the run through some of that countryside was really lovely, although too often one came across wholesale desolation and destruction in the towns and villages which had not escaped the activities of the R.A.F. The nearer we got to Belgium the bigger our welcome and the civilians made us feel we were on some sort of Royal tour, with all the cheering and shouting as we passed. They expected men, but on seeing our sex, gave yells of "Les femmes soldats". At the frontier one resourceful house-holder rushed out with a large washing basing full of hot chipped potatoes and these were passed from lorry to lorry, and Madame’s bowl was soon returned empty. Elsewhere, we were given masses of fruit in the form of pears, plums, grapes and apples, and in some villages we passed troops who had been garlanded and obviously encouraged to bend the elbow at the expense of the inhabitants! It was all great fun and a marvellous feeling to be following up a victorious army. By 5 p.m. we had reached our final destination. Here again the welcome was tremendous (the Germans had been in possession less than ten days earlier) and we drove thankfully into the grounds of the best building we had seen since leaving England. This was a beautifully designed Hospital with quarters for ourselves which included a long bath and beds with mattresses and sheets. Such things seemed sheer luxury when they had not been available for weeks. Active Service was not delayed after our arrival. We started that night making up beds in the Wards for our first convoy next day, and before turning in, several hundred beds were in readiness. From next day onwards, life was one long round of preparing for convoys, admitting the patients, dealing with the sheer necessities and evacuating them the following day, so that the whole thing could begin over again. On looking back, one realises that C.C.S. work is far from satisfying in one sense. It seemed that there was time to do so little for so many of those who passed through our hands. It amounted to this, a grasp of sheer essentials. When the men arrived in the wards, our first care was to get them to bed and get them clean and comfortable, then feed them (if they were not going to the operating theatre). From our own experience we knew that to feel clean, after roughing it, and to have a comfortable bed counted for quite a bit, although there was no time for more than the minimum of attention to each patient when dealing with such numbers. We were able to give them such extras as cigarettes and chocolate and, thanks to the generosity of the Belgians, the most marvellous hot-house fruit. The majority of Battle Casualties were those diagnosed as Gun-shot wounds, Shell wounds, Shrapnel wounds and Mine wounds, although there were plenty of fractures of all types, comminuted, complicated etc; also burns, Phosphorus, Petrol etc; Blast injuries involving Head, Spine or Chest. X-Ray was the first necessity after the Medical Officer had completed his examination, and this Department was kept working full time in the 24 hours, so that the Surgical Teams could go ahead that day or night doing the essential "toilet of wounds", which generally consisted of excision of the area, removal of foreign body, disinfecting and packing with Sulphonamide or Penicillin Powder as the case might be, and where the bone was injured too, immobilising in P.O.P. – enabling these patients to be evacuated in comparative comfort next day. In many cases the men were too exhausted and could not be sent to the Theatre until so late that they had no recollection in the morning of having been operated on at all. It was routine treatment to put all these casualties on to Sulphonamide, and a good system of cards is now in use for this and Penicillin, so that a course, once started, can be checked and dated at each stage of the journey and the patient is not kept waiting for the rest of his course until he gets to Base. Since Xmas, Trench Feet and Frostbite have come our way and in all cases, it is interesting to note that the Germans are far more badly wounded than our men. The Penicillin injections alone would keep members of the staff busy on each ward, as they had to be given 3-hourly day and night, and it was possible to have as many as 35-40 in one batch. Penicillin Drip intravenously can only be used when the patients are staying over a longer period than 24 hours so that although we knew the importance of seeing that the intramuscular injections were given regularly in order to keep up a level concentration in the blood-stream, we rather sighed at the impossibility of getting (the men) much rest, from the nursing point of view. When one is nursing the troops one can never fail to be impressed by their patience under wretched conditions, and that inextinguishable sense of humour that is always cropping up. Generally, those most badly wounded are the best patients. At that time we were dealing with very heavy casualties and we had the opportunity of witnessing the most marvellous display of endurance, so much so, that it is only possible to feel that they deserve the very best that can be given them, and that is the trouble with C.C.S. work. It was worrying at times to know that many of them could have so little done for them because one had to keep a sense of proportion and look for those in most urgent need of attention. The more cheerful side of it was that on leaving us, they were being sent as quickly as possible by Air to Blighty, where so many of our people would be awaiting them, as glad to look after them at home as we are in the B.L.A. This particular period for our unit ended after the Battle of Arnhem, when we were relieved by a still larger unit, and moved on nearer the German border. It was just as well we had lived under canvas early on, for in many respects the next spot appeared to be little better but for the fact that we had a roof. There was no water laid on at first, the lights were more than temperamental and it was quite possible for weeks on end to find that a hurricane lamp might be needed at any moment, as sole illumination of a large ward or corridor. The building having been taken over from being a Barracks formerly occupied by the Gestapo, had none of those things we had learnt to regard as essentials, such as kitchen, bathrooms and lavatories or even a duty room for each ward. At least one learns to be versatile. Kitchens have grown up in the main corridor where not only are meals served, but all the chores usually associated with behind the scenes have to be carried out among the traffic of admission, evacuation and the journey to and from the operating theatre. As someone remarked, it might be nothing to see one’s operation cases going up to the Theatre with a frying pan for a vomit bowl, or one’s admission arriving on the dinner trolley. Duty rooms have been made off a small corner of each ward, backed by cupboards, so that if gloomy within, they at least have the advantage of all one’s precious stores and equipment being round one. Bathrooms are still an unknown quantity, although showers may appear eventually, and lavatories have emerged from the chaos that reigned in the days when we functioned as in India, but without the sweeper. It was lucky we were not working to full capacity directly we arrived under these conditions, because however adaptable one tried to be, there cannot be the same speed and efficiency. However, everything seemed easier after a bit and we have since been full to overflowing and stayed the course. The men we have been looking after here are less ill than those who came to us before, and it is grand to be able to keep them longer, have more time to think about their comfort, and hear their stories – eg the 18-year old Cockney living in Kingsway, whose people had been blitzed out three times. He made nothing of it, merely said they had gone to Northampton now – this Commando who had been kicked in the stomach by a Jerry when invading a house in a German town. The Jerry didn’t come off so well. Luckily, our boy was fit in two days and off to a Convalescent Depot. These chaps are out of bed the minute they feel better (often snoop out before they’ve had leave) and, discounting the fact that they may have been very ill, can be seen giving a hand with odd jobs, trying to help us out if they see we are busy with others feeling worse than themselves. The way in which they make light of trouble was very apparent in an incident which occurred when some of us were travelling by road to Brussels on 48-hour leave. We passed a lorry which had skidded, turned right round the wrong way and side-slipped over a bank into a field. The men had been thrown out and there were several casualties among them. When we appeared to see what could be done, there were appreciative mutters of "quick service!" One seemed dazed, but even as we got him lying flat and covered him over, he was scrambling to his feet like a trapped rabbit, saying "I’m not dead yet". The others made nothing of their injuries, merely seemed rather pleased to have someone about who could splint an arm, bandage a knee or tie up a hand. They even apologised to us for making it a busman’s holiday. It is this sort of appreciation that is our reward in ways when we get "browned off", as anybody is apt to at times, in what seems an endless war. Sister Margaret Eva Price If you would like to contribute a war diary of a Nursing Sister or Staff Nurse please contact me. A QARANC wall plaque and shield is available to buy through Amazon. The QA shield is hand made and ready to hang on the wall. . Buy Now. Findextrawork Since leaving the QA's we have done an assortment of self employed work and jobs, some which only take an hour a week, others have been full time. We have written about these at our other website Findextrawork at www.findextrawork.co.uk where we share the information for free to help others with information and resources about earning more money. Visit Findextrawork for more information. The Real Tenko The latest book about British Army nurses and nursing describes a dark chapter in the history of the QAs. The Real Tenko: Extraordinary True Stories of Women Prisoners of the Japanese by Mark Felton is an account of the fall of the Far East to Japan. It comprehensively covers war atrocities performed by the Japanese troops to women stationed in places such as Singapore and Hong Kong. This included Sisters of the QAs who were stationed in hospitals such as BMH Bowen Road Hong Kong and BMH Singapore. Read the Qaranc.co.uk review or Buy Now with free delivery available. View more British Army Nursing Books - with free delivery available. If you would like to contribute to this page, suggest changes or inclusions to this website or would like to send me a photograph then please e-mail me. The photos and pictures on this page have been kindly sent to us for inclusion on this page. If you would like to contribute photographs then please contact us. For the official Army QARANC webpage please go to www.army.mod.uk/home.aspx For the QARANC Association website please go to www.army.mod.uk/army-medical-services/qaranc/9884.aspx ********************************************* Help Needed** A reader of Qaranc.co.uk is researching the exhumation of Heinrich Himmler in Luneberg, Germany circa 1945-46. He thinks that two nurses from the QAIMNS attended the exhumation due to the poor state of health of Walter Schellenberg. He would like to learn if any of the nurses kept a diary of the events leading up to the exhumation or sent any personal letters home to friends or family that may have provided an insight into Walter Schellenberg and the exhumation. Please contact Qaranc.co.uk if you have any information. Qaranc.co.uk have recently learnt about two former Military Hospitals that we would like to write about. These are the British Military Hospital at Wuppertal in Germany and BMH Benghazi. If you know any information, would like to share your memories or have photographs that we can use on the site then please contact Qaranc.co.uk A reader is writing an article about the demise of the Military Hospital for the RAMC Magazine and seeks some help. There was, in Kuala Lumpur, a hospital called BMH Kinrara. He would like to know when it opened and closed, what happened to the buildings and the staff. He thinks that Kinrara closed as Terendak opened and that the staff were transferred across to 34 Company RAMC? He would also like any information about the Military Maternity Hospital, Penang. If you can help then please contact Qaranc.co.uk There is a lovely photo of three QA Midwives from the 1960s about half way down on the Royal Herbert Hospital page. If you can help with information about the Maternity Unit in Woolwich or identify the QA Officers then please contact Qaranc.co.uk The BMH Dhekelia has new photos which includes a stunning picture of the demolition of the original building and some staff photos. The contributor would like some help with the date it was demolished and would love to hear from anyone who worked with her relative.			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