Errand of Mercy

The fear of fire in the nursery had long haunted Freda Holland. 41, a night nurse at Reading's Dellwood Maternity Home. 36 miles west of London. Early on Easter Sunday, it rose to grip her heart in panic as she opened the door behind which lay her newest charges: 15 babies, none more than nine days old. The room beyond was filled with smoke; flames licked through the floor amid the cribs, and one baby's bedding was already taking fire. Sister Holland screamed for help and rushed into the ward. Another nurse came to help, but they were both too late to save little Christopher Boulton, aged six hours, who lay in the smoldering bed. He died in Nurse Holland's arms as she carried him from the room.

Trying to beat down the flames with her nurse's cap, Sister Holland went on to pluck the other babies from their cribs, one by one, and hand them to Sister Margaret Thomas at the door. When the last of the 14 was rescued, she collapsed. She was taken to Battle Hospital near by, where she lay in a coma while doctors did their best to graft new skin on her severely burned arms and face, and baskets of flowers from grateful parents were carried in. That night, in the same hospital, two of the rescued babies died from smoke poisoning. Two others died in Dellwood. Next day, despite desperate treatment with oxygen and penicillin, four more of the babies died. One by one, as the hours wore by and mothers prayed and doctors worked, the other victims of the smoke-filled night succumbed until only two were left.

At the end of the second day, Sister Freda Holland at last recovered consciousness, belittled her own injuries, and gave thanks that she had been able to save the children. For a full three days, there was no one in all of Reading who had the heart to tell her the truth.

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