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Doris enrolled as a Red Cross Nurse at the beginning of the war. She had previously worked in the Cadena as a waitress. Her brother joined the Air force. She found herself nursing badly wounded soldiers, many of whom had lost limbs, parts of faces or were sadly burned. Most of them needed skin grafts and were also mentally scarred. Some lost their girlfriends or fiancés who could not cope with their disfigurements.

Doris and many other nurses were great morale boosters. They spent as much time as they could spare, talking to their patients and encouraging them to take up hobbies and new interests.

Many soldiers wrote poems or drew pictures which they gave to the nurses in appreciation. Doris’s autograph book contains many of these.

When she was not on night duty she used to go to the local dances, and often arranged to be let back into the hospital nurses quarters, through a window especially left open for her!

First Poem dedicated to Nurse Burton in Appreciation — October 1942

Dear old Burton
so slim and so fair,
These few lines
For you’d compare.
We may jest and joke
or make fun of her nose
but for all that, we know
without her we’d miss
that winning smile
and extra bits
of this and that,
and more besides.
We’d also miss
Her care and devotion
To those who lay sick
From exceeding their motions.
And the rest of us
With out lamps and Cats
Are no less spoilt
because of that.
This little ditty
turns out to be witty,
So I will now end it
before I go dizzy.
But for all that I’ve wrote,
It’s a unanimous vote
That Nurse Burton is OKE.

A patient from 6/3rd Maritime A.A. Regt. R.A.

Second Poem dedicated to Nurse Burton from her brother 15th May 1941.

The Red Cross nurses’ costume
Is a thing all men adore
And the dainty maiden wearer
Makes it sweeter than before;
But do not be discouraged
If you find, my belted Earl,
That your little Red Cross damsel
Is just a café girl.

A uniform’s attractive
And makes a man look smart,
And oft a well brushed air force suit
Will win a maiden’s heart.
But don’t be disappointed
If you find when war is done
That your little boy in blue so bright
Is just the dustman’s son.

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