Nan
Green
worked
for Spanish Aid in London. Her husband,
George Green, served with the International
Brigades during the Spanish
Civil War. Nan Green went to Spain
in 1937 and served for a year under Len
Crome,
chief medical officer of the 4th Army.
George Green was
killed in 1938. The following year she went with a ship-load of Spanish
refugees to Mexico. In the 1950s she worked in China and on her return
to England she became Secretary of the International Brigade Association.
(1)
An account of Nan Green's experiences appeared in Women's Voices
from the Spanish Civil War, edited by Jim Fyrth and Sally Alexander
(1991)
I found myself at Huete, in what was called 'the English
Hospital'. To my profound
astonishment, I found George there. Now George had left for Spain
with the firm intention of joining the International Brigade as soon
as he had delivered his lorry, and I had only a vague idea that he
was still in the medical service.
A little while before
my arrival he had burned the skin of one arm by getting under his
ambulance to examine a choked feed of petrol on a mountain road, and
freezing petrol had run down his arm, taking off an area of skin.
He had been sent to Huete for treatment and was almost recovered.
Meanwhile he was appointed Political Commissar of the hospital.
It was pure chance and
good fortune that brought us together now. I had not had the ridiculous
idea that I was going to Spain 'to join my husband' and though I had
a deep-down hope that we would meet I had no expectation of this incredible
bonus. It was sheer unadulterated joy.
Next day I was introduced
to my job: Assistant Secretary. The chief Administrator was British,
as were the surgeon in charge, theatre sisters, ward sisters (who
included three New Zealand nurses) and one or two ambulance drivers.
Somewhat to my disillusionment, I found that there were wheels within
political wheels, colouring the relations and actions of this group
of people. The anti-Communism of the Conservatives and the Labour
leadership had its reflection here, and I came to suspect (though
never to prove) that the Foreign Office had its finger in this and
other pies.
Nevertheless, tremendously
devoted work was done and the Spanish people (patients, mostly peasants,
staff and the villagers of Huete) were a glorious example and lesson
to all. The training of village girls as nurses and wardmaids was
speeded by their eagerness to learn and their devotion to the work,
far out-running the expectations of our nurses. Like Cromwell's men,
they knew what they were fighting for, and loved what they knew. I
have never forgotten an
old grandmother to whose cave-house (half of Huete's houses consisted
of caves hollowed out of the hillside in the village) I went, trying
to recruit women for the hospital laundry and linen room. Her daughter,
for whom I was searching, was out and she was surrounded by several
grandchildren, one or two of whom were of school age. On the whitewashed
wall of the cave were stuck some children's drawings done in coloured
crayons. 'Look', she said pointing proudly to them. 'Before the Republic
there wasn't a pencil in this village, and now all the children go
to school. Yes, my daughter will
come and help! Those wounded men are fighting so that our children
can learn.'
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