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In the mid-1980’s when I was in nursing school, we had a guest speaker, a Mrs. Gaylord, to come and talk to us about taking care of people who knew that their death was imminent. She was a well spoken English woman who had served in World War II as a British Army Nurse. She served in Norway 42 or 43 and in France and the Low Countries in 1944-45.

Her service in Norway consisted of providing medical care to wounded commandos and Norwegian resistance fighters. As a sideline, she would help to carry Jewish babies across the mountains into Sweden. They would strap the babies to their back, stun them with chloroform or similar agent and ski them over the mountains to safety.

On one such trip, they encountered a German patrol. In the resulting fight, she and a Norwegian got separated after he was wounded in the chest. They made it far enough away for her to try to treat his wound, but it was obvious he would not make it. She dug a snow cave for him to die in and as she was withdrawing from the cave, he grabbed her by the arm. He told her that he was the last of his family; the Germans had killed his wife, brothers and his parents and knew he knew he was going to die. He said he had no children and that he was the last of his line. He asked her to say his name each day, so that his name would not disappear. She told us his name and said she had said it everyday since then. Unfortunately I do not remember it other than his Christian name was Anders. She said that she then helped him out of his boots, gloves and hat so that he would die more quickly. She then skied on over into Sweden.

After she was withdrawn from Norway, she was attached to an army hospital that followed the British 2nd Army in France. She told us that contrary to what was thought, the most grievously wounded did not get treated first. They treated the ones they thought would survive first then, if they were still alive, the ones they thought wouldn’t. Her job was to care for these men and often times they were conscious of what was going on and of what their fate was. She said they mostly took it stoically and asked her to contact family and friends for them. Almost to the man, she said they asked her to tell them that he did not die in pain. She said they all knew that the medical people could not save everyone and that their death would help save someone else.

I respected this woman greatly and she died a few years later here in Montgomery. The obituary didn’t mention these aspects of her service but I remembered it because I looked at her job as one of the most difficult aspects of our calling. I cannot imagine having to tell a young man that his time to die had come and that you could do nothing to prevent it.