Tin Noses, Tin Roses: Love Stories from World War I

By Susan Anthony-Tolbert

Though the story of the “Tin Noses, Tin Roses: Love Stories from World War I” is framed against the awesome facial disfigurements that some soldiers faced from their combat with the enemy, it is not a sad or depressing account. It is a love story, actual several love stories, across the times and events from World War I through World War II. Even war, disfigurements and distance cannot diminish true love. And it is the tale of finding one’s passion in life ---- whatever that passion! It also describes how sometimes when one discipline like medicine can go no farther to repair what has been broken in a human being, another discipline can be used to make life better. In the early days of World War I, artist and sculptor, Francis Derwent Wood, founder of the Tin Noses Shop, said it best: “My work begins where the work of the surgeon is completed. My cases are generally extreme cases that plastic surgery has ----had to abandon …” In order to better understand the story of the Tin Noses, a little background in hospitals during the war is presented. The reader will find information on field hospitals, evacuation hospitals and base hospitals. Base Hospital #18 at Bazoilles-sur-Meuse would have played an important part in the lives of the characters in this book. The main story and its people are completely fictional. They have no counterparts in real life and are completely from the imagination of the author. Any similarities of these characters in “Tin Noses, Tin Roses: Love Stories from World War I” to actual people is accidental and co-incidental. The only non-fictional people in this book are Francis Derwent Wood, Anna Coleman Ladd, and Dr. Harold Gillies. These historical figures, who did so much for the facially disfigured soldiers of World War I, are mentioned to celebrate them throughout the book and to give the story context and historical significance. The book is a salute to the human spirit; to the gift of the tin noses and to the tin roses.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Feb 14, 2018
• ISBN: 9781543925692

Book preview

Virginia.

Introduction

Though the story of the Tin Noses, Tin Roses: Love Stories from World War I is framed against the awesome facial disfigurements that some soldiers faced from their combat with the enemy, it is not a sad or depressing account. It is a love story, actual several love stories, across the times and events from World War I through World War II. Even war, disfigurements and distance cannot diminish true love. It is also the tale of finding one’s passion in life ---- whatever that passion ----whether that is a passion for medicine or music or art ---- and pursing that passion fully. It describes how sometimes when one discipline like medicine can go no farther to repair what has been broken in a human being, another discipline like art or sculpture or casting can be used to make life better. In the early days of World War I, artist and sculptor, Francis Derwent Wood, founder of the Tin Noses Shop, said it best: My work begins where the work of the surgeon is completed. My cases are generally extreme cases that plastic surgery has ----had to abandon … Any shrapnel wound unlike a straight line wound from a bullet consisted of twisted metal shards that could rip a face off. The ‘tin noses’ of the WW I era were constructed to fill in/cover whatever parts of the human face that had been blown away by shrapnel and which could not be totally repaired by surgery. And so, this is also the story of those little masks of tin that improved the lives of wounded soldiers ---- sometimes only until more surgery could be completed, sometimes until time led to an acceptance of the disfigurement and other times as a lifelong protection against cruel stares and comments. The skill needed to make those ‘tin noses’ could easily be used to make the less practical but beautiful, ‘tin roses.’

World War I, also known as the Great War, was supposedly the ‘War to End all Wars.’ Unfortunately that was not the case! It began in 1914 in Europe, though the U.S. did not declare war against the Triple Alliance/Central Powers (Germany, Austria, Bulgaria and the Ottoman Empire) until April 6, 1917. American soldiers were certainly given the best training and weapons available at the time. They were instructed as thoroughly as possible in the new weapons of the era. However, many were mentally unprepared to face the gas attacks, the extensive trenches with their unsanitary conditions and diseases, and the shrapnel that blew bodies, faces and limbs apart. The very nature of trench warfare (where soldiers could and did look over the edge of the trench) was conducive to facial injuries. Rapid-fire modern machine guns proved deadly. Airplanes, tanks and high power artillery were new in this war.

A question to keep in mind while reading the story of one of the main characters, Logan E. Rice, and his work on patients in need of a facial mask from the Tin Noses Shop concerns the reason or reasons for U.S. entry into the war. By the time President Wilson asked Congress to declare war, it was obvious that France and England were nearing exhaustion. If military help didn’t arrive from the U.S., they were nearing defeat. In addition, the British blockades meant to hurt Germany were actually interfering with American free trade. The U.S. couldn’t trade with Germany and Austria. This had economic repercussions. Then, there were the firings upon and sinking of civilian ships with Americans on board by German submarines. Most people are familiar with the story of the sinking of the Lusitania on May 7, 1915. This occurred before U.S. entry into the war.

Without ‘turning off’ the reader, before he or she even begins the story, just a few quick statistics are offered. The U.S. mobilized over 4 million men. Of those, 117,000 were killed and another 204,000 were wounded. These numbers do not reflect those who suffered long term effects from the poisonous gases or wounds. Among European soldiers, eight million fighting men died and 21 million were wounded. Between 200 and 300 American soldiers suffered severe facial disfigurements. The numbers from France, England and Australia were substantially larger. Dr. Harold Gillies (Father of Modern Plastic Surgery) at the hospital in Sidcup, England preformed more than 11,000 surgeries. In addition to the horrors of war, there was the Spanish Flu ---- the Great Flu Pandemic of 1918-1919. Some estimates claim that between 50 and 100 million people died from that disease. It was the great killer of those young people in the prime of their lives. More than 18,000 Red Cross nurses served with the Army and Navy Nurse Corps and faced not only wounds but flu and other diseases as well.

In order to better understand the story of the Tin Noses, a little background about hospitals during the war is necessary. While not all fronts were organized exactly this way, the following description will give a picture of what many were like. Almost at the actual fighting was the Battalion Aid Station. From there a wounded soldier was taken to a triage point, a few miles from the front lines. This would be a field hospital. At the triage point, an evaluation was made as to whether the wound was light or serious. Once that evaluation was made the wounded were taken to an Evacuation Hospital. This type facility was about 9 to 15 miles from the front line. The soldier would stay there for several days. Then if necessary, he would be transferred to a Base Hospital. There were Base Hospitals throughout France. In fact, the Medical Department of the U.S. Army lists approximately 138 Base Hospitals. Some of these were located within the United States to care for soldiers who arrived home. Not all Base Hospitals operated in France. Since the hero of the story and his family are from Virginia, specifically the Northern Neck, the Base Hospital that would have played an important part in their lives is Base Hospital #18 at Bazoilles-sur-Meuse, at least initially. This hospital was formed from the Johns Hopkins Hospital in Baltimore, Maryland and found a physical home at Bazoilles to offer medical services during the war. However, it was established in Baltimore from volunteer doctors, student doctors, nurses, cooks, workers, carpenters etc. They were all transported as a group on the Finland to France. When first the American medical personnel arrived at the French Estate to set up Base Hospital #18, it was the only one there. Within a short period of time there were six other Base Hospitals at the estate (#42; #46; #60; #79; #81; #116). Each had a specialty. Base Hospital #42 specialized in maxillofacial surgery. Therefore, it is important in the present story. Many of the Base Hospitals remained as functional units until well into 1919 after the war had ended. These Base Hospitals were the last stop before a soldier was sent home.

The nurses of World War I provided unbelievable services. Some were very close to the Front. They were cold. Often, the blankets provided them did not keep these nurses warm. They were wet. They knew fear. They could hear the guns rumbling not very far away. They were exhausted. Sometimes they worked for days without sleep. Their patient-loads were staggering. A hospital that was meant to serve 500 wounded might actually have 1000 wounded. They had to stay focused and to keep the sadness over the deaths of so many young men at bay. They often had to sleep wearing their gas masks. Though they were trained nurses, the horrific wounds to which they had to tend were unlike anything they experienced during their education and training. They worked with patients suffering from exposure to mustard gas and/or fire burns. Shrapnel wounds were plentiful and the tearing of flesh associated with them. British and American nurses, Red Cross and Army nurses could work together. Pictured below are a nurses ‘bad weather’ uniform, a nurse’s cape and a group of nurses from Base Hospital #18 wearing gas masks.

Because of the ravages that shrapnel caused to the faces of many soldiers, surgery as a discipline in its own right within the medical field developed rapidly. The extent of the facial wounds, as experienced in WWWI, was previously unknown. Men had 1/2 their faces blown off and survived. In earlier wars, they would have surely died. Beginning in World War I, surgeons with the medical knowledge of the time could save them. However, extensive reconstruction had to be done. Dr. Harold Gillies, referred to as the Father of Plastic Surgery by many, pioneered new techniques. But, like other maxillofacial surgeons working with these soldiers, he also had to often improvise in the middle of an operation.

The characters in this book are all fictional and have sprung from the imagination of the author. The only non-fictional people in this book are Francis Derwent Wood, Anna Coleman Ladd, and Dr. Harold Gillies. (Please see the annotated bibliography at the end of this book.) These historical figures, who did so much for the facially disfigured soldiers of World War I, are mentioned and celebrated throughout the book, as well they should be. They give the story context and historical significance. It must be emphasized that the fictional characters are just that: Fictional! They have no counterparts in real life and are completely from the imagination of the author. However, the story of Private Loren W. Anderson from Miskimon, Virginia (Northumberland County) and Private Straughan Richardson from the family estate of Sunnybank in Northumberland County, Virginia did greatly inspire the author. Yet, this story is not their story! Any similarities of the characters in "Tin Noses, Tin Roses: Love Stories from World War I" to actual people is accidental and co-incidental. Hope you enjoy the story, Susan Anthony-Tolbert, Spring, 2018.

(Example of an operating room in a Base Hospital in World War One.)

Chapter One: Miss Rose Rice Visits England: Late Spring, 1939

Rose carefully studied the memorabilia in the castle-like home of Alice Longton. The older British woman thoroughly explained the history of each of her beloved items. Many dated back as far as the 1700s. The ones that interested Rose the most were from the Great War. How wonderful, Miss Longton, to have so many beautiful and meaningful things from across the years. Alice nodded. You said your father was a doctor in the Great War? Rose quickly corrected. Not a doctor in the war, actually. He did assist in operations. He was wounded and when he was recovering a famous surgeon saw his talent in drawing and in sculpting. Then, later he allowed my father to stitch up some of the wounded. My father even as a young man without formal education was blessed with real artistic and surgical skills. He got his education in medicine after the Great War.

What did you say your last name was, Dear?

Rice! I’m visiting from Richmond, Virginia. My father was Logan Rice.

Oh, my ---- it was your father then, whom I do believe made my younger brother whole again. Alice smiled as she reflected. "Yes, it was your father. I recollect that not only did he surgically work on my brother but he played a part in making the tin mask."

The two women moved into the drawing room. Alice walked with great difficulty despite the fact that Rose placed her only in her sixties---- perhaps not even that old. Rose could see her pain. It felt like a third party in the room. She graciously helped her to a seat in one of the over-stuffed chairs. Tea was served by two very solicitous housekeepers. Rose handled her cup and saucer with the upmost care as she could see everything in the home was expensive and very dear to its lone occupant. What did you say your last name was again, Dear?

Rice. I’m Rose Rice. Remember I came with an introduction from your neighbor, Miss Alma Mann. She is one of the dearest friends of my mother, Lady Grace Attwood Rice. She grew up right down the lane from you ----about two miles.

Yes, of course, I remember and you wanted to discuss ----What?

Rose calmly and slowly repeated the introduction of about an hour ago. I just wanted to meet you and to talk about your brother ---- perhaps a memory trip for you. She smiled warmly at the older woman. I’m an art historian in training and I’m writing a paper for the American Plastic Surgery Association about the Tin Noses Shop during the Great War and afterward.

"Oh yes, yes indeed, you are the one writing the paper. Let’s see -----the Tin Noses Shop went out of business ---- I guess a few years after the Great War. There still was a need but not enough money, I guess, to keep it running. I don’t really know what happened. My brother worked there for a time even after his injury. He was one of the better ones. I say better meaning that his facial injury was amenable to improvement from rounds of plastic surgeries. He only wore the tin mask for a short time. He came from money and so there were multiple surgeries and in the end he accepted that he would never have the face he had as a recruit. He wasn’t repulsive to look at, but his face was mangled. Aging was his friend to some extent. Some of the distortion and disfigurement became less obvious ---- or we all became use to it. I’m not sure. Battle changed the faces of all our men in one way or another. The ugliest weapons that man can invent to destroy other men and living things changed everything. We lost all our horses that my father had raised in that war. The government took them and then they were shot right out from under the cavalry. She paused. But I guess you know all that. It wasn’t the worst though ---- those who lived with half a face or no arms or legs ---- that was even more of a nightmare than dying instantly in the rush of battle." Alice stopped. She was only slightly aware that she was rambling. She looked off into what Rose assumed was some distant past.

The young woman shifted uncomfortably in her chair. She had heard her father’s and mother’s descriptions of the war. She was aware of what Alice Longton spoke. Can you tell me about the Tin Noses Shop? I’d like to include the perspective of someone who had a loved one served by those sculptors and tin smiths.

Well, let me see. I know the shop had three working sculptors. There was also a ---- I’m not remembering the name of the occupation but another worker and someone who did moulds. Rose added softly. You mean a casting specialist and a plaster mould-maker.

Yes, exactly! You do know about the Tin Noses Shop! Both women sipped their tea. Rose added: Well I know some things but I don’t have a real feel for the experience of it from the view point of a patient. I know what my father described but he was a worker there. I need the side of it from a person with a loved one who needed a tin mask.

They were very human and humane at that place. Francis Derwent Wood was the founder as you probably know. He was in the Royal Army Medical Corp and worked for a time as an orderly at one of our London hospitals. The name of the hospital escapes me at the moment. But, he saw a need; really a demand for giving these wounded a chance at a normal or more normal life. He always said that his work as a sculptor began where the surgeons’ work left off. There was only so much reconstruction that even the best of surgeons could do at that time and that still left many of the facially wounded with missing features. So Mr. Wood believed that he could improve the lives of these veterans by painted metal masks. These weren’t garish. His work was painstaking and realistic. ---- What did you say your name was again, Dear?

Rose smiled. Rose Rice. She paused. Some have mentioned that the masks weren’t comfortable. Was that true in your brother’s case?

Alice became slightly agitated. How comfortable is walking around without a chin or with an open eye socket? ---- I’m sure they weren’t as comfortable as a down comforter but they gave those men the chance to be in public. They were made better than earlier facial masks of rubber. They were made so skillfully that it was hard to tell unless you really stared. And you know in my brother’s case, Wood made eyelashes out of very thin metal foil which he tinted and curled. Then, he soldered them into place. It actually looked like real eyelashes over the missing eye. The eyebrow he created was equally as good. He matched skin tone and facial hair color. The mask was held in place with glasses. This Derwent Wood was an artist ---- beyond being an artist. I cannot say enough about him. Bless him and bless all those who worked for him. She exhaled. I bet you’d like to see my brother’s tin mask.

The young woman’s eyes grew large. You have it. You actually have it. I’ve been told that very few of the masks have survived. Some say that the men discarded them, threw them away. Others say that the men were buried wearing them.

My brother kept his as a reminder. He wore his less and less as he grew older. He didn’t actually grow too old, you know. The gas ---- it was the gas that got him in the end. I was much older than him --- in some ways I was more a mother than a sister. I’m an old woman now but back then we got use to his face. Later, the eye socket was filled in by a surgeon. It looked like his eye was closed. His chin was never normal … more pointed and not balanced or matching on both sides of his face but it wasn’t grotesque. I kept his mask all these years. He died too soon. I kept his mask cuz it was a part of him, a part of his life and what he endured. Her eyes filled with tears. The early years, right after the wounding, were not easy for him.

The two women went slowly into the study. Alice carefully opened a desk drawer. She tenderly unwrapped the blue linen cloth from around the mask. And then, there it was: the Tin Mask of Jack Longton. There was tiny part of a nose and a right eye with ‘just-as-described’ eye lashes, eye socket, and eye brow. It extended down to a part of a right chin. Rose wanted to cry. It was pathetic. It tore at her heart: the little mask was nothing but aging tin in the afternoon sunlight. And yet, it had been so much more to the person who needed it. The stares and crude comments that he, like his fellow travelers in the land of disfigurement must have endured and the questions posed cruelly under the guise of concern, could break her heart. Somehow, she forced herself to appear studious. Alice spoke. You can touch it. Won’t break. Rose held it gingerly. For a brief moment she felt catapulted back in time. The image of thousands and thousands of young men whose faces were damaged and their lives destroyed in an instant washed over her. Look, Miss, look at my brother’s pictures. Rose struggled with the enormity of the topic she had chosen to research. It wasn’t just the multitude of damaged faces. It was how the lives of the disfigured changed forever. The cruelty and curiosity, which these men must have faced at one time or another, almost made her want to recoil from that research. She glanced at the three photos in Alice’s hands.

The old woman continued, This is Jack the day he left for the Army, 1914, late summer or early fall I believe. There was a close up of a very handsome thirty-ish man in his British Army uniform. Alice continued: This is my brother after he was wounded. Rose consciously denied herself the luxury of the gasp she so wanted to emit. Alice frowned as the two studied the wounded Lieutenant. This is Jack with his tin mask. Rose compared the man as he left for war and the man who wore the Mask. She had to admit that he looked very similar. It was as if there had been a miracle. She easily admitted, "Mr. Wood and his group of artists from the Tin Noses Shop did wonderful work. I understand even better why my father was so proud to have helped in even a small way. I didn’t fully realize just how life-like the masks were."

Of course, you didn’t. Those pictures were not released to the public. No one wanted the good people to see the horrors of war up so close and in such personal ways ----at least not initially.

Rose exhaled. There were parties at the Tin Noses Shop. Is that correct?

Alice nodded. The sculptors and the wounded would meet. There was delicious food. They sang and laughed and shared stories. Everyone could be themselves ---- no mirrors of course. And the men would look each other in the eye. That was the thing ---- the big thing: being able to look each other in the eye. My brother and the others were always aware of how a person regarded them. Did they look at their face? Or did they turn away? Did they look them in the eye?

Rose added. My mother was a Red Cross nurse in the war and she told me that the surgeons at the field hospitals and at the Base Hospitals warned them. Look these men in the eye. They gage how you are reacting to their appearance by how and if you look them in the eye."

Yes, one must always look them in the eye, directly in the eye and not as an attempt to study their deformity.

The two women returned to the drawing room and finished their tea. Rose noticed that Alice was becoming very tired. She clearly realized that her hostess must have been about 20 years older than the soldier whose tin mask she had the privilege of touching. Not wanting to overstay her welcome, which in truth had lasted much longer than her plan, she excused herself with expressions of gratitude for all that Miss Alice Longton had told her. She had left the elderly woman with promises to return. And Rose Rice was a young woman of her word. She would have much to tell her