Artículos de revistas sobre el tema "World war, 1914-1918 – medical care – france"

The First World War was and is considered the most terrible conflagration of all time. Thus, over 65,000,000 soldiers made up the corps of land armies, naval and air forces, combat armies that participated in the conduct of military operations during the First World War. About 8,500,000 people died and more than 21,000,000 were injured. France was one of the countries most affected by this war, its medical services, including dentistry and oral and maxillofacial surgery, being completely obsolete. Thus, in this material, we tried to describe some important figures of French oral and maxillofacial dentistry and surgery, which were active in French civil and military hospitals during the First World War (1914-1918).

This article explores the impact of the First World War on the social reform movement in France, emphasizing hospital policy and medical insurance. I argue that the war gave birth to a concerted reform movement which succeeded in bringing about fundamental changes to health care policy. During the inter-war years, the French embarked on a mission to replace the traditional hospital, the maison des pauvres, with modern facilities designed to cater to the middle class as well as to the poor. In 1928, a landmark law was passed which extended medical insurance to workers and the lower middle class. By 1940, over one half of the population was covered by medical insurance, and dozens of modern hospitals had been constructed. The impetuses to this national reform legislation were the numerous local experiments, whose stories I examine in some detail. Despite the image of Third Republic ‘decadence’, the success of health policy reform during the 1920s and 1930s shows that France was indeed capable of important domestic reforms. Under Vichy, these reforms were consolidated and after the Liberation, Vichy's efforts were saluted and affirmed by French politicians.

This World War 1 ether/chloroform vaporiser-inhaler was designed by and made for Captain Anstruther John Corfe by Private Eric Aspinall McMurdie, both of the 2nd Australian Casualty Clearing Station (ACCS), Australian Army Medical Corps (AAMC). It has a plaque attached labelled 25 May 1918. It is a perfect example of the ingenuity forced by the realities of war, and is one of the unique pieces in the Harry Daly Museum at the Australian Society of Anaesthetists (ASA) headquarters in Sydney, Australia. While serving in Blendecques, France, Private McMurdie ingeniously fashioned this vaporiser from discarded items he found on the battlefield. These included Horlick's Malted Milk bottles, on which he etched measurements for ether and chloroform, and a spent brass artillery shell, which made the heating component of the inhaler. The 2nd ACCS triaged and operated on thousands of troops, and this inhaler is a reflection of the skills and innovative expertise of the staff of the 2nd ACCS which included X-rays to localise foreign bodies, and locally made splints and apparatus to treat trench foot.

The purpose of the study is to reveal the main areas of activity of the Red Cross Society in Ukraine during the First World War (1914–1918). The author made an attempt, based on both published and unpublished sources, to characterize the multifaceted work of the Society directly in the theater of operations (the South-Western Front), as well as to highlight the main areas of activity of the Red Cross beyond the front lines. Methodology. In the research process, the path of dominance of the following principles was chosen: the principle of historicism, the principle of objectivity, comprehensiveness and integrity of the source. As part of the study of the history of the Society, general scientific research methods were used, such as induction and deduction. Scientific novelty. The article presents an analysis of the main areas of work of the Red Cross society, namely: evacuation of the wounded and sick from advanced positions; their further treatment in rear medical facilities; rehabilitation of the wounded, sick and disabled; assistance to prisoners of war; providing assistance to the civilian population; international activity of the Society. An assessment of the effectiveness of the society’s social and humanitarian activities in helping victims of famine, epidemic diseases, natural disasters and preparing the population for the protection of the state and its cooperation with military societies is given. Research results. Researched: the process of evolution of the organizational structure of the Society in 1914–1918, sources of funding for the activities of the Red Cross; the main directions of his activity both in advanced positions and beyond. It is emphasized that the insufficient effectiveness of state structures in the organization of medical and sanitary economy led to the fact that the Society partially intercepts these functions, turning out in many cases to be competitors and even monopolists in some fields of medical and not only medical care.

After the outbreak of war in Europe in 1914, the British government’s call to arms caused a moral and religious dilemma for members of the Religious Society of Friends (Friends or Quakers), whose fundamental principle was (and is) the rejection of war and violence. Many Friends sought means of reconciling their duty to God with their duty to their country, and the prospect of helping to alleviate the suffering of the civilian victims of the fighting provided them with an acceptable alternative. Together with fellow Friend T. Edmund Harvey MP, Dr Hilda Clark set about rallying the support of Friends and sympathisers willing to go out to France to administer humanitarian aid to non-combatants. The committee adopted the name used by the distinguished organisation that had administered relief in the Franco-Prussian War—the Friends’ War Victims’ Relief Committee (FWVRC). Extensive and multifaceted aid work was carried out in much of northern France by the FWVRC’s general relief team. The following essay, however, examines more closely the medical assistance provided under the leadership of Hilda Clark. In particular, it focuses on the maternity hospital created and run by the FWVRC in Châlons-sur-Marne, which became a lasting legacy of the Friends to the people of the Marne.

The article is devoted to the activities of Alexander Sergeevich Puchkov as part of the Russian Red Cross Society, which during the First World War was one of the largest public organizations that provided assistance to wounded soldiers and officers in the theater of military operations and in the rear. The Red Cross appointed those responsible for all military sanitary, medical evacuation and organizational measures in this area of military operations: a special officer, a chief officer. The events of the period 1914–1918, which formed the professional qualities of the organizing physician A.S., are described. Puchkova, approaches and principles to providing medical care to the wounded in case of mass injuries and injuries in the performance of official duties of the special representative of the Russian Red Cross Society under the 2nd Army of the Western Front.

As the 110th anniversary of the beginning of the excavations at Vinča is nearing, the question arises as to how much we really know about the role and motives of a number of British subjects who in various ways played decisive roles in the research and the international affirmation of this important Late Neolithic site. It is possible, on the basis of archives and personal correspondence of Miloje M. Vasić, to view the investigations of Vinča in the wider context of political and military relations, influencing the general situation in the Kingdom of The Serbs, Croats and Slovenes, later Yugoslavia. John Lynton Myres was a professor at the universities in Oxford and Liverpool, the founder and editor of the Journal Man and the director of the British Archaeological School in Athens. During the World War I, between 1916 and 1919, he was an officer of the Royal Navy Volunteer Reserve, first in the Navy Intelligence Service, and then in Military Control Office in Athens. The Browns, Alec and Catherine, also played an important role. Alec Brown, a left-oriented writer, translator and correspondent, arrived to Serbia as a Cambridge graduate, aiming at the post of an English language teacher in high schools. In the period from 1929 to 1931 he took part in the excavations at Vinča, taking this setting as the base for the plot of one of his books. His wife, Elsie Catherine Brown, whose life is very poorly documented, served in the British Embassy in Belgrade between the wars. Vasić dedicated the third volume of Prehistoric Vinča to her, for her devoted work in the British medical mission and the care she took of the Serbian soldiers near Thessalonica, but also for her part played in the establishment of the initial contact with Sir Charles Hyde. The life of Catherine Brown may be seen as one of the many exceptional stories about the noble British ladies, celebrated in Serbia for over a century. However, one should bear in mind that the events and characters (Myres, Hyde, the Browns) linked to the research in Vinča may be a part of a larger scene, and a consequence of other, equally important circumstances of a more direct involvement of Great Britain in the political situation in Yugoslavia between the wars. Myres, a man close to the scientific, intelligence and diplomatic circles, is the key person in the initial contact between Vasić and Catherine Brown. Since his first encounter with Vasić in 1918 in Athens, on the occasion of his return from France to Serbia, Myres himself or through Catherine Brown, worked to establish the collaboration and keep the contact with Vasić. It is possible that the Athens meeting, initiated by Myres, was a consequence not only of the scholarly interest, but also the growing British involvement in the Balkans. After the same line of reasoning, the arrival of Alec Brown in Belgrade cannot be understood solely as a consequence of the individual ambition of a young Slavic scholar, but as well as a part of the strategy of deepening the British influences over the region traditionally more inclined towards France, due to the political and cultural ties and military alliances. After the war, many Serbian linguists were posted as teachers of the language at the most prestigious British universities, such as Oxford and Cambridge, where Alec Brown earned his degree. His application to the post of English teacher in Serbia is closely preceded by the recommendation of Earl Curzon of Kedleston, British Foreign Secretary, to secure teaching English in the Yugoslav schools, and not only French, as it was previously the case. The collaboration between British and Serbian intellectuals was surely a very suitable context for the establishment of intimate contacts and spreading of cultural and political influences. As illustrated by the case of the Near East, archaeology and archaeologists are particularly useful in this respect. Their long sojourns and mobility in the field, command of the language, enabled them to gain the confidence of the locals, learn about the customs, and gain information, just like Myres the Blackbeard did, and more or less successfully Catherine and Alec Brown as well. Regardless of the real or clandestine motifs, in the case of the investigations of Vinča, this collaboration made possible the publication the four-volume work of Vasić – Prehistoric Vinča, exceptional in many respects, and the international recognition of Vinča as one of the most important Late Neolithic settlements in South-eastern Europe.

Following France’s entry into World War I on August 3, 1914, Thierry de Martel (1875–1940), the French neurosurgery pioneer, served on the front line and was wounded on October 3, 1914. He was then assigned as a surgeon in temporary hospitals in Paris, where he published his first observations of cranioencephalic war wounds. In 1915, de Martel met Harvey Cushing at the American Hospital in Neuilly, where de Martel was appointed chief surgeon in 1916. In 1917, he published with the French neurologist Charles Chatelin a book (Blessures du crâne et du cerveau. Clinique et traitement) with the aim to optimize the practice of wartime brain surgery. This book, which included the results of more than 5000 soldiers with head injuries, was considered the most important ever written on war neurology at that time and was translated into English in 1918 (Wounds of the Skull and Brain; Their Clinical Forms and Medical and Surgical Treatment). In this book, de Martel detailed the fundamentals of skull injuries, classified the various craniocerebral lesions, recommended exploratory craniectomy for cranioencephalic injuries, recommended the removal of metal projectiles from the brain using a magnetic nail, and advocated for the prevention of infectious complications. Between the World Wars, de Martel undertook several developments for neurosurgery in France alongside neurologists Joseph Babinski and Clovis Vincent. Following France’s entry into World War II on September 3, 1939, de Martel took over as head of the services of the American Hospital of Paris in Neuilly. He updated his work on war surgery with the new cases he personally treated. Together with Vincent, de Martel presented his new approach in "Le traitement des blessures du crâne pendant les opérations militaires" ("The treatment of skull injuries during military operations") on January 30, 1940, and published his own surgical results in April 1940 in "Plan d’un travail sur le traitement des plaies cranio-cérébrales de guerre" ("Work Plan on the Treatment of Cranio-Cerebral Wounds of War"), intended for battlefield surgeons. On June 14, 1940, the day German troops entered Paris, de Martel injected himself with a lethal dose of phenobarbital. Thierry de Martel played a central role in establishing modern neurosurgery in France. His patriotism led him to improve the management of wartime cranioencephalic injuries using his own experience acquired during World Wars I and II.

The news about the great victories of the Gallant Little Serbia in the Great War spread far and wide. Following on the appeals from the Serbian legations and the Serbian Red Cross, assistance was arriving from all over the world. First medical missions and medical and other help arrived from Russia. It was followed by the medical missions from Great Britain, France, Greece, The Netherlands, Denmark, Switzerland, America, etc. Material help and individual volunteers arrived from Poland, Canada, Australia, New Zealand, Ireland, Norway, India, Japan, Egypt, South America, and elsewhere. The true friends of Serbia formed various funds under the auspices of the Red Cross Society, and other associations. In September 1914, the Serbian Relief Fund was established in London, while in Scotland the first units of the Scottish Women?s Hospitals for Foreign Service were formed in November of the same year. The aim of this work was to keep the memory of the Scottish Women?s Hospitals in Serbia, and with the Serbs in the Great War. In the history of the Serbian nation during the Great War a special place was held by the Scottish Women?s Hospitals - a unique humanitarian medical mission. It was the initiative of Dr. Elsie Maud Inglis (1864-1917), a physician, surgeon, promoter of equal rights for women, and with the support of the Scottish Federation of Woman?s Suffrage Societies. The SWH Hospitals, which were completely staffed by women, by their participation in the Great War, also contributed to gender and professional equality, especially in medicine. Many of today?s achievements came about thanks to the first generations of women doctors, who fought for equality in choosing to study medicine, and working in the medical field, in time of war and peacetime.

The news about the great victories of the Gallant Little Serbia in the Great War spread far and wide. Following on the appeals from the Serbian legations and the Serbian Red Cross, assistance was arriving from all over the world. First medical missions and medical and other help arrived from Russia. It was followed by the medical missions from Great Britain, France, Greece, the Netherlands, Denmark, Switzerland, America, etc. Material help and individual volunteers arrived from Poland, Canada, Australia, New Zealand, Ireland, Norway, India, Japan, Egypt, South America, and elsewhere. The true friends of Serbia formed various funds under the auspices of the Red Cross Society, and other associations. In September 1914, the Serbian Relief Fund was established in London, while in Scotland the first units of the Scottish Women?s Hospitals for Foreign Service were formed in November of the same year. The aim of this work was to keep the memory of the Scottish Women?s Hospitals in Serbia and with the Serbs in the Great War. In the history of the Serbian nation during the Great War, a special place was held by the Scottish Women?s Hospitals ? a unique humanitarian medical mission. It was the initiative of Dr. Elsie Maud Inglis (1864?1917), a physician, surgeon, promoter of equal rights for women, and with the support of the Scottish Federation of Woman?s Suffrage Societies. The Scottish Women?s Hospitals, which were completely staffed by women, by their participation in the Great War, also contributed to gender and professional equality, especially in medicine. Many of today?s achievements came about thanks to the first generations of women doctors, who fought for equality in choosing to study medicine, and working in the medical field, in time of war and peacetime.

We consider the formation and development features of the nurseries as a special social institution in the Tambov Governorate in the early of 20th century. The governorate and county levels of declared scientific problem consideration allows to conduct the successful reconstruction of the formation and activities of infant nurseries for foundlings, orphans in both urban and rural areas, which reflected the practice of social care and charity of “trouble children”. We reveal the implementation features of county initiatives for the social protection of foundlings and orphans, as well as the levels and forms of such support for such categories of Russian society by local authorities. We clarify the possibilities of organizing nurseries for foundlings at the governorate and county hospitals and maternity wards. We note the role of particular medical workers in the development of civic initiatives and public service in the rescue of foundlings. We identify the historiographic traditions of both domestic and foreign historians in the study of the orphans charity in the context of the social work organization and the social institutions development, including nurseries. Based on the analysis of a wide range of historical sources, it was possible to identify the most successful and effective practices of organizing nurseries both in the peaceful years and in the periods of Russian-Japanese War of 1904–1905 and World War I 1914–1918, which allowed us to consider various little-studied aspects of the stated scientific problem. We reveal the regional features of the social protection system for orphans through the prism of nursery care. We clarify the position and role of the Orthodox Church on the organization of orphan charity in monasteries during the war years of 1914–1918. We reveal the main posing issues of the prospects for studying a wide range of problems in the history of orphanhood in the Tambov Governorate in the early 20th century. We pay attention to the importance of taking into account regional specifics and specific historical manifestations of social policy when conducting a study of charitable support and private public initiatives of the considered period.

A little more than a hundred years ago, the humanity plunged into the second wave of «the Spanish flu» just like in the spring of 2021 it plunged into the second wave of coronavirus. Despite the significant biological and virological differences between COVID-19 coronavirus and the Spanish flu, already known to us in the second year of the pandemic, the obvious significant similarity in the dynamics of the epidemiological scenarios of both pandemics is striking.It is officially believed that the epidemic in Europe began in the last months of the deadly First World War (1914—1918). Its development and the next catastrophic spread were caused by: unsanitary conditions, poor nutrition, overcrowding in trenches and refugee camps, the demobilization and the return of soldiers home, as also the rapid development of vehicles at the beginning of the 20th century (trains, cars, high-speed ships). The Spanish flu, caused by the H1N1 virus, had several «waves». It is difficult to estimate the exact number of those who had the Spanish flu, but presumably, this is 500—550 million people. About 25 million people died (some studies indicate a figure of 50 or even 100 million). Unfortunately, the mankind quickly forgot about this viral pandemic and consequently was objectively compelled, after a hundred years, to unexpectedly make the same mistake again and introduce quarantine as the only way to limit the further spread of the next viral pandemic of mankind. The Spanish flu significantly influenced all the further development of medicine. While before the deadly pandemic the private medical practice was widespread, in the process of its overcoming, the formation of the modern international health care system took place. In 1919, the International Bureau for Epidemic Control was founded in Vienna.

AbstractStudy ObjectivesTraction splinting has been the prehospital treatment of midshaft femur fracture as early as the battlefield of the First World War (1914-1918). This study is the assessment of these injuries and the utilization of a traction splint (TS) in blunt and penetrating trauma, as well as intravenous (IV) analgesia utilization by Emergency Medical Services (EMS) in Miami, Florida (USA).MethodsThis is a retrospective study of patients who sustained a midshaft femur fracture in the absence of multiple other severe injuries or severe physiologic derangement, as defined by an injury severity score (ISS) <20 and a triage revised trauma score (T-RTS)≥10, who presented to an urban, Level 1 trauma center between September 2008 and September 2013. The EMS patient care reports were assessed for physical exam findings and treatment modality. Data were analyzed descriptively and statistical differences were assessed using odds ratios and Z-score with significance set at P≤.05.ResultsThere were 170 patients studied in the cohort. The most common physical exam finding was a deformity +/- shortening and rotation in 136 patients (80.0%), followed by gunshot wound (GSW) in 22 patients (13.0%), pain or tenderness in four patients (2.4%), and no findings consistent with femur fracture in three patients (1.7%). The population was dichotomized between trauma type: blunt versus penetrating. Of 134 blunt trauma patients, 50 (37.0%) were immobilized in traction, and of the 36 penetrating trauma victims, one (2.7%) was immobilized in traction. Statistically significant differences were found in the application of a TS in blunt trauma when compared to penetrating trauma (OR=20.83; 95% CI, 2.77-156.8; P <.001). Intravenous analgesia was administered to treat pain in only 35 (22.0%) of the patients who had obtainable IV access. Of these patients, victims of blunt trauma were more likely to receive IV analgesia (OR=6.23; 95% CI, 1.42-27.41; P=.0067).ConclusionAlthough signs of femur fracture are recognized in the majority of cases of midshaft femur fracture, only 30% of patients were immobilized using a TS. Statistically significant differences were found in the utilization of a TS and IV analgesia administration in the setting of blunt trauma when compared to penetrating trauma.NackensonJ, BaezAA, MeizosoJP. A descriptive analysis of traction splint utilization and IV analgesia by Emergency Medical Services.Prehosp Disaster Med. 2017;32(6):631–635.

In my last editorial I was contemplating living the new and unexpected experience of life with Covid 19. Six months ago, was a time for contemplation. We were all entering into an event of major historical significance. The world has experienced epidemics before, and we had only to turn to the works of writers such as Camus to realise how recurrent human behaviour is. We tend so often to be caught by surprise despite the lessons that are so readily available to us through reference to history. The Spanish ‘flu epidemic of 1919 was the obvious benchmark to which we could turn. Following hot on the heels of the Great War of 1914-1918 it was responsible for more casualties than occurred in the war to end all wars (50 million). It infected 500 million people worldwide. After just over ten months we are a long, long way from those sorts of figures. As of 12th November, 51,975,458 case of infection have been reported. Deaths attributed to the virus number 1,281,309 worldwide. Of course, what makes Covid 19 so significant is not simply that it should have happened, but that it is the first pandemic in this era of globalisation which we have entered only comparatively recently. Some might remember the SARS epidemic which affected mainly people in Asia. As indicated by its name, severe acute respiratory syndrome (SARS-CoV-2), it was very similar initially in its effects. Yet, after first emerging in 2002, it was eradicated less than two years later. It seems that this was achieved largely by what has been called simple public health measures. This involved “testing people with symptoms (fever and respiratory problems), isolating and quarantining suspected cases, and restricting travel.” These same measures of course have been implemented in most countries following the virus’ spread to Italy early in 2020. However, the fact that different nations have responded differently and also experienced very different outcomes should be of considerable interest as we consider the whole concept of a global threat and global responses. The ten worst affected countries currently are in order: Contry; Confirmed Cases; Deaths United States; 10,460,302; 244,421 India; 8,684,039; 128,165 Brazil; 5,749,007; 163,406 France; 1,865,538; 42,535 Russia; 1,836,960; 31,593 Spain; 1,417,709; 40,105 Argentina; 1,273,343; 34,531 United Kingdom; 1,256,725; 50,365 Colombia; 1,165,326; 33,312 Italy; 1,028,424; 42,953 They are dominated by the advanced economies of the northern hemisphere. The countries who have previously experienced the SARS epidemic in Asia have fared comparatively lightly. Bearing in mind that statistics of this nature may not be strictly comparable given variation in the criteria used and the methods of sourcing and collecting this information, it is still interesting to hypothesise why outcomes can differ so much. Explanations might include reference to the environments in which people live – physical space, climate and availability of sophisticated health care systems to name a few – or they might dwell on the culture of those involved, their willingness to follow instructions imposed upon them, the importance of competing objectives that might make prioritising health and physical wellness less of a priority. Whatever the case, satisfactory explanations are more likely to involve some interactions involving measures of both the individuals and the environments within which they live. Any attempt to explain or understand human behaviour needs to consider a variety of factors and knowing how to take account of them is an important part of the skill base that scholars of international and comparative studies bring with them. Such skills and knowledge are more important in a globalised world than they have ever been. Yet such skills may be becoming harder to achieve, precisely because of some of the effects of processes associated with globalisation. I would recommend to you a recent documentary produced by Netflix and widely available on YouTube. “The Social Dilemma” is an examination of the use of social media and in particular focuses on the relationship between the growing addiction amongst young people to the use of smartphones and, specifically their social media programmes, and the rising levels of concern about deteriorating mental health and wellbeing among the world’s youth. It draws a relationship between the psychological disorder of narcissism and the failure of phone obsessed young people to experience real human to human interaction, with a related increase in aggressive bullying and dysfunctional behaviour. Thus, the results of experiencing interactions and personal validation through the proxy world of social media, rather than face to face, is a dehumanisation of the individual and leads to a distorted experience of the world in simple dichotomies of a single view, right or wrong. So, whatever the continuing effects of the pandemic, as these continue to unfold, it will be important that we continue to build our understanding of other people in their own worlds. We need to avoid the trap of believing that our own world is the only world and the right world. However smart artificial intelligence becomes, a screen is only two dimensional and it is the extra dimensions that enable us to grow as humans and cope with the complexity and challenges of our own unique worlds. One of the less helpful trends of our globalised digitised world, has been the pursuit and glorification of the cult of celebrity. One of the difficulties of that celebrity status is it is frequently awarded on the basis of undeserving and irrelevant characteristics such as, acting ability, physical beauty or sporting reputation. Yet many seem to feel that this status entitles them to pontificate or attempt to influence others in areas that have nothing to do with their expertise. Ricky Gervais, in his chairing of the 2020 golden globes award, brought a refreshing dose of reality in advising the celebrities who were to receive awards: You are in no position to lecture the public about anything. You know nothing about the real world. Most of you spent less time in school than Greta Thunberg. So, if you win, come up accept your little award. Thank your agent and your God and **** off. OK? It is in that spirit of willingness to learn from the work of a range of colleagues working in a range of places and professional situations around the world, I commend to you the contributions to be found in the following pages. To start the ball rolling, we have a report from Hairui Liu, Wei Shen and Peter Hastie on the application of a curriculum model which was developed in the US and has since gained some popularity in a number of settings around the world. The origins of sport education came from a realisation that, in too many situations, physical education had failed to excite the same degree of enthusiasm among school pupils as could often be observed when they involved themselves in sport. The model thus extends the skill/technique focus which is found in many traditional physical education settings, to include more of the dimensions of sport – formal competition, affiliation, festivity experienced over a season. They concluded that, within this Chinese university context, the students achieved a higher level of performance and more enthusiastic engagement when the model was adopted as a basis for their learning. Our second article moves from an education setting to a contemporary sport science framework, the world of professional sport and one of the higher levels of competition in the world – the English Championship. Rhys Carr, Rich Mullen and Morgan Williams monitored the running intensity of players throughout a season. In particular they questioned the demands for high intensity running when playing in a 4-4-2 formation and implementing a high press strategy, such as adopted by Liverpool in their highly successful 2019 English Premiership season. They concluded that, for players in the centre forward and wide midfield positions, the demands created were impossible to maintain for an entire match. They were then able to draw out some practical and tactical implications for managers and their support staff, relating to substitution strategy and the physical match preparation of players in these positions and with these strategic responsibilities. Our third article involves an exploration of the perpetual discomfort many of us feel as educators when we compare the practice of sport against the ideals we hold for it. As professionals in the field, many of us are driven by our belief in what sport can offer. Yet the modern commodification of sport, coupled with the excessive need to win as a motive that exceeds all others, consistently produces behaviours and outcomes which we seek to disassociate from our professional practices. The article by Irantzu Ibanez, Ana Zuazagoitia, Ibon Echeazarra, Luis Maria Zulaika and Iker Ros is set in the context of the Basque region of Spain and explores the values held by students in their pre-service training with regard to the practice of extracurricular sport. The students show an awareness of the mismatch between their ideals of extracurricular sport as an educational experience and the influence on current practices that comes from the way in which sport is conducted in the society at large. The authors conclude with a plea for greater alignment between the practice of sport in schools and teh educational values that should guide it. Our final contribution is from South Africa where Lesego Phetlhe, Heather Morris- Eyton and Alliance Kubayi report on the concerns of football (soccer) coaches in Guateng province. It is clear that these coaches, in common with others around the world, suffer a degree of stress in their chosen occupation. The sources of this stress are to be found in the nature of the complex tasks they are expected to manage, as well as in the always challenging job of managing the players for whom they are responsible. To this can be added the difficult environmental conditions they are faced with, as well as the inevitable concern with having to produce results for the players and their team. Their research has produced some useful guidelines for administrators that can facilitate the jobs of the coaches and lead to benefits in enhanced performances and results. Finally, in our book review, Luiz Uehara evaluates Jorge Knijnik’s thoughtful analysis of the impact of the 2014 world cup on Brazil. From both author and reviewer, it is possible to feel the pride and passion in their nation of birth and its special contribution to the world’s most popular game. It is my privilege to recommend the work of these international scholars to you. I leave you the reader with the hope that in introducing our next volume, I will be able to celebrate with you more positive news about the progress of the pandemic and its implications for international and comparative sport and physical education. John Saunders Brisbane, November 2020

An analysis of published and unpublished materials generated by the Canadian Army Medical Corps during the First World War demonstrates that Canadian doctors and nurses serving in France created a narrative of the Great War that was more optimistic in its message than the canonical war books written in the 1920s and 1930s and more internationalist in orientation than the dominant narrative of the war created in Canada after the war.

The First Eastern General Hospital (1914–1919) from its inception at the Leys School, its growth and establishment at Trinity College Cambridge and then its further move to the cricket grounds of King’s College and Clare College (now the site of the University Library), exemplifies the determination and desire of Cambridge University to contribute to the humanitarian effort during World War I. It is also a prime example of the sheer sacrifice and altruism of the medical profession across its ranks to offer its services in times of need. From its day of mobilisation on 5 August and its first patient admission on 16 August 1914 through 30 June 1918, the last month for which hospital data exist, the First Eastern General Hospital admitted 62,664 patients from Home, Expeditionary, Belgian and Mediterranean Forces. In the last month alone, it admitted more than 2000 personnel. By its closure, there were only 437 deaths, a mortality rate of 0.69 per cent. It paved the way for Auxiliary Hospitals to which 2500 of its patients were transferred. Both Barnwell and Cherry Hinton Military Hospitals, set up to care for venereal disease patients, sprang from the First Eastern General and followed its organisation and staff arrangements after the parent closed.

Hundreds of thousands of Australian children were born in the shadow of the Great War, fathered by men who had enlisted between 1914 and 1918. Their lives could be and often were hard and unhappy, as Anzac historian Alistair Thomson observed of his father’s childhood in the 1920s and 1930s. David Thomson was son of a returned serviceman Hector Thomson who spent much of his adult life in and out of repatriation hospitals (257-259) and whose memory was subsequently expunged from Thomson family stories (299-267). These children of trauma fit within a pattern suggested by Marianne Hirsch in her influential essay “The Generation of Postmemory”. According to Hirsch, “postmemory describes the relationship of the second generation to powerful, often traumatic, experiences that preceded their births but that were nevertheless transmitted to them so deeply as to seem to constitute memories in their own right” (n.p.). This article attempts to situate George Johnston’s novel My Brother Jack (1964) within the context of postmemory narratives of violence that were complicated in Australia by the Anzac legend which occluded any too open discussion about the extent of war trauma present within community, including the children of war.“God knows what damage” the war “did to me psychologically” (48), ponders Johnston’s protagonist and alter-ego David Meredith in My Brother Jack. Published to acclaim fifty years after the outbreak of the First World War, My Brother Jack became a widely read text that seemingly spoke to the shared cultural memories of a generation which did not know battlefield violence directly but experienced its effects pervasively and vicariously in the aftermath through family life, storytelling, and the memorabilia of war. For these readers, the novel represented more than a work of fiction; it was a touchstone to and indicative of their own negotiations though often unspoken post-war trauma.Meredith, like his creator, is born in 1912. Strictly speaking, therefore, both are not part of the post-war generation. However, they are representative and therefore indicative of the post-war “hinge generation” which was expected to assume “guardianship” of the Anzac Legend, though often found the narrative logic challenging. They had been “too young for the war to have any direct effect”, and yet “every corner” of their family’s small suburban homes appear to be “impregnated with some gigantic and sombre experience that had taken place thousands of miles away” (17).According to Johnston’s biographer, Garry Kinnane, the “most teasing puzzle” of George Johnston’s “fictional version of his childhood in My Brother Jack is the monstrous impression he creates of his returned serviceman father, John George Johnston, known to everyone as ‘Pop.’ The first sixty pages are dominated by the tyrannical figure of Jack Meredith senior” (1).A large man purported to be six foot three inches (1.9 metres) in height and weighing fifteen stone (95 kilograms), the real-life Pop Johnston reputedly stood head and shoulders above the minimum requirement of five foot and six inches (1.68 metres) at the time of his enlistment for war in 1914 (Kinnane 4). In his fortieth year, Jack Johnston senior was also around twice the age of the average Australian soldier and among one in five who were married.According to Kinnane, Pop Johnston had “survived the ordeal of Gallipoli” in 1915 only to “endure three years of trench warfare in the Somme region”. While the biographer and the Johnston family may well have held this to be true, the claim is a distortion. There are a few intimations throughout My Brother Jack and its sequel Clean Straw for Nothing (1969) to suggest that George Johnston may have suspected that his father’s wartime service stories had been embellished, though the depicted wartime service of Pop Meredith remains firmly within the narrative arc of the Anzac legend. This has the effect of layering the postmemory violence experienced by David Meredith and, by implication, his creator, George Johnston. Both are expected to be keepers of a lie masquerading as inviolable truth which further brutalises them.John George (Pop) Johnston’s First World War military record reveals a different story to the accepted historical account and his fictionalisation in My Brother Jack. He enlisted two and a half months after the landing at Gallipoli on 12 July 1915 and left for overseas service on 23 November. Not quite the imposing six foot three figure of Kinnane’s biography, he was fractionally under five foot eleven (1.8 metres) and weighed thirteen stone (82.5 kilograms). Assigned to the Fifth Field Engineers on account of his experience as an electric tram fitter, he did not see frontline service at Gallipoli (NAA).Rather, according to the Company’s history, the Fifth Engineers were involved in a range of infrastructure and support work on the Western Front, including the digging and maintenance of trenches, laying duckboard, pontoons and tramlines, removing landmines, building huts, showers and latrines, repairing roads, laying drains; they built a cinema at Beaulencourt Piers for “Brigade Swimming Carnival” and baths at Malhove consisting of a large “galvanised iron building” with a “concrete floor” and “setting tanks capable of bathing 2,000 men per day” (AWM). It is likely that members of the company were also involved in burial details.Sapper Johnston was hospitalised twice during his service with influenza and saw out most of his war from October 1917 attached to the Army Cookery School (NAA). He returned to Australia on board the HMAT Kildonian Castle in May 1919 which, according to the Sydney Morning Herald, also carried the official war correspondent and creator of the Anzac legend C.E.W. Bean, national poet Banjo Paterson and “Warrant Officer C G Macartney, the famous Australian cricketer”. The Herald also listed the names of “Returned Officers” and “Decorated Men”, but not Pop Johnston who had occupied the lower decks with other returning men (“Soldiers Return”).Like many of the more than 270,000 returned soldiers, Pop Johnston apparently exhibited observable changes upon his repatriation to Australia: “he was partially deaf” which was attributed to the “constant barrage of explosions”, while “gas” was suspected to have “left him with a legacy of lung disorders”. Yet, if “anyone offered commiserations” on account of this war legacy, he was quick to “dismiss the subject with the comment that ‘there were plenty worse off’” (Kinnane 6). The assumption is that Pop’s silence is stoic; the product of unspeakable horror and perhaps a symptom of survivor guilt.An alternative interpretation, suggested by Alistair Thomson in Anzac Memories, is that the experiences of the vast majority of returned soldiers were expected to fit within the master narrative of the Anzac legend in order to be accepted and believed, and that there was no space available to speak truthfully about alternative war service. Under pressure of Anzac expectations a great many composed stories or remained selectively silent (14).Data gleaned from the official medical history suggest that as many as four out of every five returned servicemen experienced emotional or psychological disturbance related to their war service. However, the two branches of medicine represented by surgeons and physicians in the Repatriation Department—charged with attending to the welfare of returned servicemen—focused on the body rather than the mind and the emotions (Murphy and Nile).The repatriation records of returned Australian soldiers reveal that there were, indeed, plenty physically worse off than Pop Johnston on account of bodily disfigurement or because they had been somatically compromised. An estimated 30,000 returned servicemen died in the decade after the cessation of hostilities to 1928, bringing the actual number of war dead to around 100,000, while a 1927 official report tabled the medical conditions of a further 72,388 veterans: 28,305 were debilitated by gun and shrapnel wounds; 22,261 were rheumatic or had respiratory diseases; 4534 were afflicted with eye, ear, nose, or throat complaints; 9,186 had tuberculosis or heart disease; 3,204 were amputees while only; 2,970 were listed as suffering “war neurosis” (“Enlistment”).Long after the guns had fallen silent and the wounded survivors returned home, the physical effects of war continued to be apparent in homes and hospital wards around the country, while psychological and emotional trauma remained largely undiagnosed and consequently untreated. David Meredith’s attitude towards his able-bodied father is frequently dismissive and openly scathing: “dad, who had been gassed, but not seriously, near Vimy Ridge, went back to his old job at the tramway depot” (9). The narrator-son later considers:what I realise now, although I never did at the time, is that my father, too, was oppressed by intimidating factors of fear and change. By disillusion and ill-health too. As is so often the case with big, strong, athletic men, he was an extreme hypochondriac, and he had convinced himself that the severe bronchitis which plagued him could only be attributed to German gas he had swallowed at Vimy Ridge. He was too afraid to go to a doctor about it, so he lived with a constant fear that his lungs were decaying, and that he might die at any time, without warning. (42-3)During the writing of My Brother Jack, the author-son was in chronically poor health and had been recently diagnosed with the romantic malady and poet’s disease of tuberculosis (Lawler) which plagued him throughout his work on the novel. George Johnston believed (correctly as it turned out) that he was dying on account of the disease, though, he was also an alcoholic and smoker, and had been reluctant to consult a doctor. It is possible and indeed likely that he resentfully viewed his condition as being an extension of his father—vicariously expressed through the depiction of Pop Meredith who exhibits hysterical symptoms which his son finds insufferable. David Meredith remains embittered and unforgiving to the very end. Pop Meredith “lived to seventy-three having died, not of German gas, but of a heart attack” (46).Pop Meredith’s return from the war in 1919 terrifies his seven-year-old son “Davy”, who accompanies the family to the wharf to welcome home a hero. The young boy is unable to recall anything about the father he is about to meet ostensibly for the first time. Davy becomes overwhelmed by the crowds and frightened by the “interminable blaring of horns” of the troopships and the “ceaseless roar of shouting”. Dwarfed by the bodies of much larger men he becomestoo frightened to look up at the hours-long progression of dark, hard faces under wide, turned-up hats seen against bayonets and barrels that are more blue than black ... the really strong image that is preserved now is of the stiff fold and buckle of coarse khaki trousers moving to the rhythm of knees and thighs and the tight spiral curves of puttees and the thick boots hammering, hollowly off the pier planking and thunderous on the asphalt roadway.Depicted as being small for his age, Davy is overwrought “with a huge and numbing terror” (10).In the years that follow, the younger Meredith desires emotional stability but remains denied because of the war’s legacy which manifests in the form of a violent patriarch who is convinced that his son has been rendered effeminate on account of the manly absence during vital stages of development. With the return of the father to the household, Davy grows to fear and ultimately despise a man who remains as alien to him as the formerly absent soldier had been during the war:exactly when, or why, Dad introduced his system of monthly punishments I no longer remember. We always had summary punishment, of course, for offences immediately detected—a cuffing around the ears or a sash with a stick of a strap—but Dad’s new system was to punish for the offences which had escaped his attention. So on the last day of every month Jack and I would be summoned in turn to the bathroom and the door would be locked and each of us would be questioned about the sins which we had committed and which he had not found out about. This interrogation was the merest formality; whether we admitted to crimes or desperately swore our innocence it was just the same; we were punished for the offences which, he said, he knew we must have committed and had to lie about. We then had to take our shirts and singlets off and bend over the enamelled bath-tub while he thrashed us with the razor-strop. In the blind rages of these days he seemed not to care about the strength he possessed nor the injuries he inflicted; more often than not it was the metal end of the strop that was used against our backs. (48)Ironically, the ritualised brutality appears to be a desperate effort by the old man to compensate for his own emasculation in war and unresolved trauma now that the war is ended. This plays out in complicated fashion in the development of David Meredith in Clean Straw for Nothing, Johnston’s sequel to My Brother Jack.The imputation is that Pop Meredith practices violence in an attempt to reassert his failed masculinity and reinstate his status as the head of the household. Older son Jack’s beatings cease when, as a more physically able young man, he is able to threaten the aggressor with violent retaliation. This action does not spare the younger weaker Davy who remains dominated. “My beating continued, more ferociously than ever, … . They ceased only because one day my father went too far; he lambasted me so savagely that I fell unconscious into the bath-tub, and the welts across my back made by the steel end of the razor-strop had to be treated by a doctor” (53).Pop Meredith is persistently reminded that he has no corporeal signifiers of war trauma (only a cough); he is surrounded by physically disabled former soldiers who are presumed to be worse off than he on account of somatic wounding. He becomes “morose, intolerant, bitter and violently bad-tempered”, expressing particular “displeasure and resentment” toward his wife, a trained nurse, who has assumed carer responsibilities for homing the injured men: “he had altogether lost patience with her role of Florence Nightingale to the halt and the lame” (40). Their marriage is loveless: “one can only suppose that he must have been darkly and profoundly disturbed by the years-long procession through our house of Mother’s ‘waifs and strays’—those shattered former comrades-in-arms who would have been a constant and sinister reminder of the price of glory” (43); a price he had failed to adequately pay with his uncompromised body intact.Looking back, a more mature David Meredith attempts to establish order, perspective and understanding to the “mess of memory and impressions” of his war-affected childhood in an effort to wrest control back over his postmemory violation: “Jack and I must have spent a good part of our boyhood in the fixed belief that grown-up men who were complete were pretty rare beings—complete, that is, in that they had their sight or hearing or all of their limbs” (8). While the father is physically complete, his brooding presence sets the tone for the oppressively “dark experience” within the family home where all rooms are “inhabited by the jetsam that the Somme and the Marne and the salient at Ypres and the Gallipoli beaches had thrown up” (18). It is not until Davy explores the contents of the “big deep drawer at the bottom of the cedar wardrobe” in his parents’ bedroom that he begins to “sense a form in the shadow” of the “faraway experience” that had been the war. The drawer contains his father’s service revolver and ammunition, battlefield souvenirs and French postcards but, “most important of all, the full set of the Illustrated War News” (19), with photographs of battlefield carnage. These are the equivalent of Hirsch’s photographs of the Holocaust that establish in Meredith an ontology that links him more realistically to the brutalising past and source of his ongoing traumatistion (Hirsch). From these, Davy begins to discern something of his father’s torment but also good fortune at having survived, and he makes curatorial interventions not by becoming a custodian of abjection like second generation Holocaust survivors but by disposing of the printed material, leaving behind artefacts of heroism: gun, the bullets, the medals and ribbons. The implication is that he has now become complicit in the very narrative that had oppressed him since his father’s return from war.No one apparently notices or at least comments on the removal of the journals, the images of which become linked in the young boys mind to an incident outside a “dilapidated narrow-fronted photographer’s studio which had been deserted and padlocked for as long as I could remember”. A number of sun-damaged photographs are still displayed in the window. Faded to a “ghostly, deathly pallor”, and speckled with fly droppings, years earlier, they had captured young men in uniforms before embarkation for the war. An “agate-eyed” boy from Davy’s school joins in the gazing, saying nothing for a long time until the silence is broken: “all them blokes there is dead, you know” (20).After the unnamed boy departs with a nonchalant “hoo-roo”, young Davy runs “all the way home, trying not to cry”. He cannot adequately explain the reason for his sudden reaction: “I never after that looked in the window of the photographer’s studio or the second hand shop”. From that day on Davy makes a “long detour” to ensure he never passes the shops again (20-1). Having witnessed images of pre-war undamaged young men in the prime of their youth, he has come face-to-face with the consequences of war which he is unable to reconcile in terms of the survival and return of his much older father.The photographs of the young men establishes a causal connection to the physically wrecked remnants that have shaped Davy’s childhood. These are the living remains that might otherwise have been the “corpses sprawled in mud or drowned in flooded shell craters” depicted in the Illustrated News. The photograph of the young men establishes Davy’s connection to the things “propped up our hallway”, of “Bert ‘sobbing’ in the backyard and Gabby Dixon’s face at the dark end of the room”, and only reluctantly the “bronchial cough of my father going off in the dawn light to the tramways depot” (18).That is to say, Davy has begun to piece together sense from senselessness, his father’s complicity and survival—and, by association, his own implicated life and psychological wounding. He has approached the source of his father’s abjection and also his own though he continues to be unable to accept and forgive. Like his father—though at the remove—he has been damaged by the legacies of the war and is also its victim.Ravaged by tuberculosis and alcoholism, George Johnston died in 1970. According to the artist Sidney Nolan he had for years resembled the ghastly photographs of survivors of the Holocaust (Marr 278). George’s forty five year old alcoholic wife Charmian Clift predeceased him by twelve months, having committed suicide in 1969. Four years later, in 1973, George and Charmian’s twenty four year old daughter Shane also took her own life. Their son Martin drank himself to death and died of organ failure at the age of forty three in 1990. They are all “dead, you know”.ReferencesAWM. Fifth Field Company, Australian Engineers. Diaries, AWM4 Sub-class 14/24.“Enlistment Report”. Reveille, 29 Sep. 1928.Hirsch, Marianne. “The Generation of Postmemory.” Poetics Today 29.1 (Spring 2008): 103-128. <https://read.dukeupress.edu/poetics-today/article/29/1/103/20954/The-Generation-of-Postmemory>.Johnston, George. Clean Straw for Nothing. London: Collins, 1969.———. My Brother Jack. London: Collins, 1964.Kinnane, Garry. George Johnston: A Biography. Melbourne: Nelson, 1986.Lawler, Clark. Consumption and Literature: the Making of the Romantic Disease. Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, 2006.Marr, David, ed. Patrick White Letters. Sydney: Random House, 1994.Murphy, Ffion, and Richard Nile. “Gallipoli’s Troubled Hearts: Fear, Nerves and Repatriation.” Studies in Western Australian History 32 (2018): 25-38.NAA. John George Johnston War Service Records. <https://recordsearch.naa.gov.au/SearchNRetrieve/Interface/ViewImage.aspx?B=1830166>.“Soldiers Return by the Kildonan Castle.” Sydney Morning Herald, 10 May 1919: 18.Thomson, Alistair. Anzac Memories: Living with the Legend. Clayton: Monash UP, 2013.