TDIH: Nurses at the Invasion of Italy

“They were among the real heroes,” General Mark W. Clark observed.

During this week in 1943, Allied forces launch an amphibious assault on Sicily. “Operation Husky,” as the attack was codenamed, would successfully capture that island, providing Allied forces a base from which to liberate mainland Italy.

But it wasn’t just men who landed in Sicily. American nurses were there, too, providing vital support.

“The presence of nurses at the front,” a U.S. Army report concludes, “improved the morale of all fighting men because soldiers realized that they would receive skilled care . . . . Hospitalized men recovered sooner when nurses cared for them. Troops in the field figured that ‘if the nurses can take it, then we can.’”

These nurses were often in just as much danger as the men.

Those with the 10th Field Hospital and the 11th Evacuation Hospital experienced this almost immediately upon arriving in Sicily. With German dive bombers in the skies above, nurses were forced into foxholes practically as soon as they arrived.

They were in Italy for the duration, though, and they were determined to help.

“Many wounded soldiers’ faces still haunt my memory,” nurse June Wandrey wrote. “I recall one eighteen year old boy . . . . he looked up at me trustingly, sighed and asked, “How am I doing nurse?” . . . . I put my hands around his face, kissed his forehead and said, ‘You are doing just fine, soldier.’ He smiled sweetly and said, ‘I was just checking up.’ Then he died. Many of us shed tears in private. Otherwise, we try to be cheerful and reassuring.”

Initially, many of the nurses stayed in Licata, treating and evacuating casualties there. “Licata was the dirtiest place we ever hoped to see,” flight nurse Catherine Grogan remembered. “The only nice memory is that from there we started evacuation from Italy. With each new move, morale ran high and energy was renewed.”

Many of the nurses followed the troops as they worked their way across Italy. Those stationed in Licata were soon moving to Palermo, then on to the mainland.

The move to the mainland was not without incident. To the contrary, disaster struck one hospital ship carrying 103 American nurses, plus a handful of British medical personnel. HMHS Newfoundland was bombed and sunk, despite markings clearly identifying it as a hospital ship.

“At 5:10 we heard a plane,” Army nurse Vera Lee later wrote, “& then that bad awful whistle a bomb makes & bang! . . . I shut my eyes & thought it was the end—Then the next second I thought ‘What the hell, I’m not dead—get out of this place.’”

The American nurses survived, although the British personnel were less lucky.

Unfortunately, the bombings were not only at sea. Nurses endured air raids, even on field hospitals. When danger came, they matter-of-factly helped the wounded to put on helmets and shelter under cots. Yet some patients couldn’t be moved at all. Wouldn’t you know those brave nurses sat with these men, refusing to take shelter themselves, just so those immobilized soldiers would not have to be alone?

While nurses shared in hardships, they also shared in successes. June Wandrey, for instance, pronounced herself “privileged” to be present when a POW camp was liberated. “The lump in my throat nearly choked me,” she wrote. “It was difficult being carefree and gay. But [the rescued POWs] wanted laughter, and female chatter…and I tried.”

“The nurses were tremendous builders of morale at a time when it badly needed building,” General Mark W. Clark observed of the final months before Rome was liberated. “They went about their work wearing helmets and facing danger as great as anyone else . . . . [They worked] through bombardment of all kinds . . . . they were among the real heroes . . . .”

Another story of bravery, honor, and perseverance from the Greatest Generation.

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