#world war ii nurse

[monicasaiplayground]

8313 - Jackie Heart as a 1940s World War II nurse full body picture - OpenArt

[todaysdocument]

"Nurses of a field hospital who arrived in France via England and Egypt after three years service."

Record Group 112: Records of the Office of the Surgeon General (Army)Series: Medical Department Activities in the European Theatre Operations

This black and white photograph shows seven women in military fatigues in or leaning against a jeep.  They are smiling for the camera.  A large bush is behind the jeep.

[taraross-1787]

This Day in History: Elsie Ott, Flight Nurse

On this day in 1943, Second Lieutenant Elsie Ott departs on a grueling trip—the first intercontinental air evacuation flight. Ott was the flight nurse that day, and she would become the first woman to receive the U.S. Air Medal as a result of her service.

Believe it or not, she’d never even flown in a plane before. Where would this country be without brave ladies such as these?

Ott joined the Army Nurse Corps in September 1941, a few months before the attack on Pearl Harbor. After a few brief assignments in the States, she was dispatched to Karachi, India.

Little did she know it, but she was about to make history.

The story continues here: https://www.taraross.com/post/tdih-elsie-ott

[thepopculturearchivist]

LOOK, June 1, 1943

[newyorkthegoldenage]

Army nurses, at their post at Fort Jay, Governors Island, wear gas masks as they have a civil defense drill, November 27, 1941.

Photo: Associated Press

[gameraboy2]

Nurses Are Needed Now! by Steele Savage, 1944

[nazuuuhistory]

• Photograph of 1er Lt. Mary L.Hawkins, colorize by me.

1st Lt. Mary L. Hawkins was an air evacuation flight nurse who earned the Distinguished Flying Cross during World War II. Ella evacuated 24 patients from the fighting at Palau to Guadalcanal when the C-47 she was aboard on board ran out of fuel and was forced to crash land on the island of Bellona.

During landing, a propeller ruptured the fuselage and severed a patient's windpipe. Hawkins made a suction tube from several items, including the inflation tube from a « Mae West » life jacket and kept the man's throat clear of blood until help arrived 19 hours later. All of his patients survived.

For his actions, Hawkins was awarded the Distinguished Flying Cross.

[ancientfaces]

Those who help others are truly special. Maggie Eloise (Cliatt) Spaeth (1922 - 1982) was one of those special people.   Trained as a nurse, "Eloise" developed pleurisy and had to stop nursing. She then joined the WAVES (Women Accepted for Volunteer Emergency Service) to help in the World War II effort, and afterwards went on to become a waitress, electronics student, and newspaper writer. Twenty five years later she returned to nursing in an Emergency Room.   As her descendant, Benae, who shared her biography, stated: "She was known for quietly helping people in need." Thank you Benae, for sharing about Eloise so that she is always remembered on AncientFaces.

[doodlesink]

The Home Front Nurses by Rachel Brimble -- A Book Review

Happy Wednesday!  The Home Front Nurses by Rachel Brimble comes out tomorrow (08/08).  Check out my review of this historical novel.  Happy Reading!

[musingsofahistorymajor]

https://people.com/tyler-perry-the-six-triple-eight-first-look-exclusive-8701722

We finally have a trailer and a release date for the Six Triple Eight movie!! December 20, 2024 on Netflix!!

I'm so so excited for this movie! And everything I see looks so good. The hair styles, the civilian outfits, the uniforms are worn correctly and with the right insignia and hats. The clips in the trailer look so good and accurate and I'm so excited!!!

It's about time we had a WWII film focused on women. Where the women are not background characters. Where the focus is not a love story. Where the women are not props for the men's stories. Finally we have a movie about what women did during World War II that isn't about the home front or nursing! Cause they did SO MUCH during the war and it's never told.

The story of the 6888th Battalion is incredible and I'm beyond thrilled to see it told this way. Me and my fellow female WWII reenactors are going to have a watch party.

[politicalprof]

From the Salt Lake Tribune, 2017:

“I am a 67-year-old American white woman. My parents enlisted in World War II to fight fascism. They both served; my mother was a nurse, my father navigated bombers. They lost friends in that bloody war so that all the world could be free of fascism. They did not fight so that some white people could claim supremacy or that Nazis could openly walk the streets of America.

White person to white supremacist person: What is wrong with you?

People of European heritage are doing just fine in the world. They run most of the world’s institutions, hold much of the world’s wealth, replicate as frequently as other humans. You’re not in any danger here. The world is changing, that’s true. Others want a piece of the pie. They work for it, strive for it and earn it. Technology (robotics) is having a greater effect on your job prospects than immigrants. Going forward, tackling corporate control and climate change will need all of our attention, ideas and energy. Put down your Tiki torches and trite flags and get involved in some real work.

By the way, the world won the war against Nazi fascism in the 1940s, just as America won the war against the Confederacy in the 1860s. Aligning with two lost causes just labels you as profound losers.

And finally, white person to white person: Like my parents before me, I will not stand idly by nor give up my rights or the rights of other Americans because you think you are better than some of us. It doesn’t work that way. All Americans stand shoulder to shoulder against your hatred and bigotry.”

Jonna Ramey

Salt Lake City

[monicasaiplayground]

8315 - Jackie Heart as a 1940s World War II nurse lesbian couple full body picture - OpenArt

[todaysdocument]

"Surgical ward treatment at the 268th Station Hospital, Base A, Milne Bay, New Guinea. Left to right: Sgt. Lawrence McKreever, patient; 2nd Lt. Prudence Burns, ward nurse; 2nd Lt. Elcena Townscent, chief surgical nurse; and an unidentified nurse."

Record Group 111: Records of the Office of the Chief Signal OfficerSeries: Photographs of American Military Activities

This black and white photograph shows three African American nurses surrounding a patient’s bed in a rudimentary field hospital.  They are wearing white surgical gowns and caps.  They appear to be in a ward with many other patients and staff.

[taraross-1787]

This Day in History: Navy Nurse Corps

At about this time in 1944, women in the Navy Nurse Corps are given full military ranks for the first time. The Corps’ Superintendent, Sue Dauser, becomes the first woman in the Navy to hold the rank of Captain.

The move came after years of hard work.

Nurses had been helping the Navy for decades, of course. When the hospital ship Red Rover traveled up and down the Mississippi during the Civil War, it had volunteer nurses on board. Likewise, USS Relief carried volunteer nurses during the Spanish-American War.

Things became more official in 1908.

The story continues here: https://www.taraross.com/post/tdih-navy-nurse-corps

[queen-of-the-avengers]

500

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.2k

Warnings: angst

Summary: You're given a gift that will allow you to help others. You try to use this gift for good and you never make anyone feel like a charity case. However, when you meet Bucky Barnes, you know you have to do something or he'll live the rest of his life in pain.

Squares Filled: graveyard (2021) for @buckybarnesbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are greatly appreciated <3

x

The thing you love most about New York is not everywhere is like the city. If you travel far enough outside of it, it turns into any normal town like any other state has. You’re on your way to visit your parents at the New York State Veterans Cemetery since your father was a soldier in World War II. Your mother requested to be buried alongside him even though she was never in the military, and they let her.

It’s a four-hour drive from the city where you live, so you take this moment to yourself and think about your purpose on Earth. About once a month, you get like this because you’re not normal. You were born with the ability to see people’s pain above their heads in numbers ranging from zero to sixty. One is not in any pain at all and sixty is the worst pain a person can be in.

You’ve been to plenty of hospitals around New York, so you’ve seen people who are in a tremendous amount of pain, but no one has ever been above sixty. You’ve been on this Earth for thirty-three years and never have you seen someone with a sixty-one above their head. Why were you born with this ability? You’re not sure but you know you can do a whole lot of good with it. 

It’s why you became a licensed therapist as well as a social worker. You take on jobs that will help as many people as you can. While you can’t heal anyone physically like a nurse or a doctor, you can help with their emotional and mental trauma which is where most of the pain lies. You’re the only person without a number above your head but it’s likely your powers don’t work on you.

You look at the taxi driver and see the number twenty-five above his head. He’s seen some stuff in his life, that’s for sure. He must be a taxi driver to get away from it all, to just coast through life without having to deal with a lot of stress. You’re guessing but it’s not like you’re going to ask the man what kind of trauma he’s been through in his life.

He drops you off at the cemetery and drives away once you’ve paid him. You like to spend hours with your parents and tell them all that you’ve seen and the people you helped, and that usually takes a few hours at the least. You clutch your mother’s favorite flowers and walk into the cemetery, keeping your head down out of respect.

You sit down right across from their graves and break the bouquet into two so both your parent can have flowers.

“I helped a teenager last week escape his abusive parents,” you begin. “They didn’t care about him and often used him as an outlet for their rage. His pain was at a thirty. Thirty. At age fifteen. I went to go visit him in his new home and his pain was at a twenty-seven. He’s healing and I’d like to think I had something to do with it. I wish you guys were here to see this. It’s amazing to see someone’s number go down because of something I did.”

You look up and scan the area when you notice a man standing by himself near one of the graves. The wind is knocked out of your lungs and you have to brace yourself on the ground so you don’t fall over. The man isn’t saying anything to the grave, just standing over it. Above his head is a whopping five hundred. If you saw someone with an eighty, you’d be floored. The fact that this man has a five hundred over his head… how is he still alive? It’s clearly not physical wounds that hurt him.

Who is this man? Even the most depressed people never go above sixty. You once got involved with a woman who was passed around in the sex trafficking ring and she didn’t even go above sixty. This man has five hundred.

Five hundred.

He says something to the grave before leaving, and you’re too shocked to get up and follow him. What would you even say to him? He had to have been broken down to the very last piece only to be put back together. Over and over again. That’s probably why he’s at five hundred. You don’t want him to feel like a charity case but you have to know that man. To think he’s walking around in such profound pain brings you pain.

“Mama, I think I found someone who might need my help. I’ll let you know how it goes next week.”

Since the cemetery is four hours away from the city, you’re hoping that he is from around here. You spend the next several days walking around Central Park just watching for that five hundred to show up again. You know exactly who the man was. You got a glimpse of his face as he was leaving the cemetery, and you knew he’d never leave New York. This is his home.

You know who he is and after some research on him, you know why he has a five hundred above his head. The following Saturday, you’re walking around Central Park in hopes of seeing this man again. You’d like to think because he has a five hundred, he has his humanity back. He’s feeling the guilt of everything he’s done so you know he isn’t dangerous.

Two women job past you laughing at what one of them said, and you notice how one of the women has a two above her head while the other has a fifteen. Maybe the fifteen did something her friend doesn’t know about and the guilt is starting to eat her alive. A young couple is sitting on the grass with a picnic between them, and both of them only have a five above their head. They must be in love. An elderly couple walks past them with both of them having a forty above their heads. Guess love doesn’t always work out for people in the end.

Central Park gets around six thousand daily visitors, and none of them have a number above sixty. You’ve traveled across the country for your job and non one has ever surpassed sixty. Not until him. You walk further into the park where a cluster of benches are, and you stop when you see that thick five hundred number again.

There he is. Sitting all alone.

Now’s your chance. You walk up to him who barely acknowledges your presence.

“May I sit here?”

He looks up and sees the book in your hands thinking you’re going to mind your business and read silently. He doesn’t say anything but nods so you sit across from him and open your book. You pretend like you’re reading it when really, you’re looking at him from over the top of your book. He has gloves on his hands and it’s not wintertime yet.

There’s a reason why he is wearing gloves.

“My name is Y/N. What’s yours?” you ask gently.

“Bucky.”

“That’s an interesting name. Is it short for something?”

“My middle name is Buchanan. My friends call me Bucky.”

“Nice to meet you, Bucky.” You go back to reading only to put the book down several minutes later. “Do you live around here? Or are you visiting someone?”

“No, not visiting someone.”

He’s clearly not into the conversation but you’re not going to give up. He’s not another project. You’re genuinely interested in getting to know him. Sure, his number enticed you to want to talk to him but you’re going to treat him like you would anyone else. It’s going to take a lot more than one conversation for him to open up to you.

The next day, you find him sitting in the same spot with the same five hundred above his head. You walk over to him and don’t ask to sit down, you just do. He lifts his head and notices the book first before looking into your eyes.

“Hi, Bucky. Do you mind if I sit here again?”

“No,” he shakes his head.

Today, you let him get used to your company. You don’t say anything to him except for when you part ways at the end of the day. You want him to be comfortable around you otherwise, he won’t talk to you. Every day after that, you keep sitting across from him reading the same book, allowing him to feel comfortable around you.

“So, what’s your book about?” he asks on the fourth day of sitting across from him.

“It’s called The Maze Runner. I know, it’s for an audience a bit younger than me, but I love the movies. It’s about a young man who wakes up with no memory of who he is and is stuck with a group of boys who also have no memory of who they are. They’re stuck in this maze-like area and they have to try and figure their way out of it that no one has ever survived. There are three movies but there are five books.”

“Sounds interesting. I’ll have to read it.”

“Here,” you close your book and hand it over to him, “take this.”

“No, that’s yours.”

“This is my fifth time reading the series.”

“I can’t just take your book.”

“Then consider it a loan. Give it back when you’re done. Plus, it’ll give me an excuse to come and talk to you again.”

Bucky smiles for the first time since you’ve met him, and God, what a beautiful smile it is.

“Thank you.”

“Look, I have to get going, but here is my number.” You write down your number on a spare piece of paper and hand it over. “If you ever want another good book recommendation or the second book in the series, give me a call. Or, you know, if you just want to talk.”

“Okay,” he nods.

You don’t have to look back to know he’s watching you walk away. The next time you see him is a couple of days later. He hasn’t used your number which is fine because you don’t want to rush anything with him.

“Did you finish it?” you ask and sit across from him.

“Yeah, I did. It’s really good.”

“I brought the second one just in case.”

You two exchange the books and he smiles at you.

“Thank you. Would you like to go on a walk with me? Just around Central Park.”

“Sure.”

A walk around the park usually takes two hours if you’re leisurely enough about it, and there is no rush to go anywhere else. You want to ask Bucky a million things about his life and where he came from but you don’t pry into his life. You can get that information online if you want to, but you want this relationship to grow naturally.

Though, you’re not sure you understand why someone like him can be this sad about who he is.

“So, this might be a weird question but how do you feel?”

“Why is that a weird question? I’m fine.”

“It’s just… you seem so sad sometimes.”

“Honestly? There’s not a whole lot to be happy about these days.”

“You’re alive, right? That’s a pretty damn good day to me.”

“Yeah, well, sometimes, I wish I wasn’t.”

“Well, if you weren't, I wouldn’t have met you. I think you’re a great guy.”

“That’s because you don’t know who I am. If you did, you’d be smart to run,” he sighs.

“I know who you are. I know about the Winter Soldier. I lived in DC when everything happened with Steve.” He looks at you and uncertainty swims in his eyes. “It doesn’t matter to me. I’ve read about what you have done. Hell, I’ve seen it, but that doesn’t make you a bad person.”

“It doesn’t?” he asks with a thick voice filled with emotion.

“Come on, there are a lot of people worse than you like child molesters and rapists. On that spectrum, you’re not so bad. What makes a person bad is the fact that they know what they’re doing is wrong and still continue to do it. When someone wakes up and stops doing what made them bad, that’s not being bad. When someone is manipulated into doing bad things but doesn’t do those things anymore, that’s not being bad. I’m sorry, am I making any sense?” you chuckle.

“Yeah, you are,” he chuckles back. “Thank you.”

“Thank you for the walk but I need to go now. I have to get to work. Can I take you out? You know, a place that’s not Central Park? I can show you my favorite bookstore with books like The Maze Runner.”

“I’ll text you.”

“Great. I look forward to it.”

You start to walk away from him knowing he is watching you walk off. When you get to the busy street, you look back and notice something that brings a bright smile to your face. That five hundred above his head? It’s now at four hundred and ninety-nine.

x

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[newyorkthegoldenage]

Staff members of a mobile civilian relief hospital placed on display, November 7, 1940, before it was shipped to England, demonstrate how they will help wounded British civilians on the European battlefront. (That's what the original text says. But what would civilians be doing on a battlefront?) Top, an actual blood transfusion in one of the portable rooms of the unit, which is composed of 25 trucks and trailers and 16 tents. Bottom, a nurse cares for a patient in a heated tent. The unit, valued at $100,000 (more than $2 million in today's currency), was designed for use in devastated areas where power and other facilities were lacking.

Photos: Associated Press