Chapter: THE WOMEN'S SHELTER, WHITECHAPEL

This is a place where women, most of them old, so far as my
observation went, are taken in to sleep at a charge of 3_d._ a night.
It used to be 2_d_. until the London County Council made the provision
of sheets, etc., compulsory, when the Army was obliged to raise the
payment. This Shelter, which is almost always so full that people have
to be turned away, holds 261 women. It contains a separate room, where
children are admitted with their mothers, half price, namely
1-1/2_d._, being charged per child. There is a kitchen attached where
the inmates can buy a large mug of tea for a 1/2_d._, and a huge chunk
of bread for a second 1/2_d._; also, if I remember right, other
articles of food, if they can afford such luxuries.

The great dormitory in this Shelter, it may be mentioned, was once a
swimming-bath. Some of the women who come to this place have slept in
it almost every night for eighteen or twenty years. Others make use of
it for a few months, and then vanish for a period, especially in the
summer, when they go hop or strawberry picking, and return in the
winter. Every day, however, fresh people appear, possibly to depart on
the morrow and be seen no more.

I asked whether the aged folk had not been benefited by the Old Age
Pensions Act. The lady Officer in charge replied that it had been a
blessing to some of them. One old woman, however, would not apply for
her pension, although she was urged to take a room for herself
somewhere. She said that she was afraid if she did so, she might be
turned out and be lonely.

I visited this Shelter in the late afternoon, before it was filled up.
A number of dilapidated and antique females were sitting about in the
rooms, talking or sewing. One old lady was doing crochet work. She
told me that she made her living by it, and by flower-selling. Another
informed me that it was years since she had slept anywhere else, and
that she did not know what poor women like her would do without this
place. Another was cooking the broth. Her husband was a sea captain,
and when he died, her father had allowed her _L1_ a week until he
died. Afterwards she took to drink, and drifted here, where, I was
informed, she is doing well. And so on, and so on, _ad infinitum_. The
Hanbury Street Women's Shelter is not a cheerful spot to visit on a
dull and rainy evening.

 Henry Head assures Dr. Rivers that he is nothing like Dr. Yealland. He adds that Sassoon's integrity would have prevented him from staying at Craiglockhart once his protest failed, regardless of the psychologist's actions. Dr. Rivers expresses his worry that Sassoon is returning to war in order to die, citing his lack of concern about the future. However, Rivers also realizes that treating Sassoon has changed his life. He recounts another incident that has had a large impact on his perspective. He explains to Head that when he was traveling in the Solomon Islands, he mapped kinship networks and cultural practices by asking people what they would do with a large windfall of money. Eventually, the native people turned the question around and asked Dr. Rivers what he would do with the same riches. The psychologist was forced to admit that he didn't have anyone to share the money with, which struck the islanders as absurd. This forced Rivers to realize both how lonely he was and the inherent contrivance of systematic English superiority. Native habits were as strange to Rivers as his English habits were to the natives. In the aftermath of that conversation, Dr. Rivers decided to embrace cultural relativism and to try to connect more with others. Dr. Rivers returns to Craiglockhart for Anderson and Sassoon's board hearings. He briefly meets with each soldier, noting that Anderson has grown more dependent and Sassoon more resigned. Meanwhile, Sassoon reveals that he suspects Owen has developed something more than platonic feelings for him. During Anderson's board hearing, Rivers helps to secure the doctor a position in the War Office bureaucracy, away from the blood of either the battle field or a civilian medical practice. Next, Dr. Rivers argues to the board that Sassoon should return to the front because he has renounced his dangerous ideas. When interviewed, however, Sassoon denies that he has changed his opinion about the war, emphasizing that he holds his ideals firmer than ever. Nevertheless, the lieutenant insists on returning to France. Given his talents and his fitness, both physical and emotional, the board agrees to let Sassoon go. After the hearing, Sassoon and Dr. Rivers meet to say goodbye. The psychologist tells Sassoon that he can blame his decision to return on him, but Sassoon rejects the offer. The lieutenant admits that he lied to the board about no longer having nightmares, explaining that they have actually intensified since Dr. Rivers's departure. Dr. Rivers tells him not to take unnecessary risks, but Sassoon thinks to himself that he might. They part on good but depressing terms. As he is leaving, Sassoon thanks the board members, instantly reminding Dr. Rivers of Callan thanking Dr. Yealland. As he fills out the day's paperwork, Dr. Rivers marvels as to how much Sassoon has changed him, even though it was the doctor who was tasked with changing Sassoon. After treating Sassoon, Rivers now rejects the military values he once championed, concluding, "a society that devours its own young deserves no automatic or unquestioning allegiance". The psychologist ponders the contradiction between Sassoon's hardened pacifism and his desire to return to war and becomes more convinced than ever that Sassoon's decision is not just a juvenile rebellion against authority, but rather, the reflection of a "genuine and very deep desire for death". The doctor thinks that if Sassoon does not die he will have a serious mental breakdown. He flips through to Sassoon's file and finds that he can write nothing more about this man than "Nov. 26, 1917. Discharged to duty".

