During the last three weeks I had a clear image in my head of the days leading up to the opening of our little hospital in the bush.

This was a cross between the efficiency of a BMW factory and the happiness of the seven dwarves. With joyful hearts and steeled muscles we would build this new Jerusalem in the heart of the dark satanic plague.

Inevitably the reality is a little different. Our barren facility is a post-apocalyptic setting around which we wander dazed and confused under the burning African sun.

On the first day we are zombies, staggering from one empty shell of a building to another, overawed by the size of the task ahead of us, clueless about where to begin. We have no water or food and by early afternoon everyone seems to have disappeared, retreat having been decided on as the best form of attack.

By the second day however we begin to rebuild our civilisation from ground zero. Small groups of nurses cluster together and start to rehearse drills: admissions, drug rounds, rehydration, a collapsed, bleeding patient, a collapsed member of staff.

This is a complex adaptive system which is too difficult to design from the top down. It needs to be built in small sections from the bottom up and then assembled in a final grand finale. This empowerment of the staff brings relief and confidence after a couple of days of doubt and concern. I think we can do this.

Then again maybe we can’t. I get the news from our logistician that we have no gloves, no masks and no surgical scrubs. So maybe I’m a little gung-ho when it comes to pitching into battle with Ebola, but a wafer-thin plastic apron feels a bit naked after all the PPE I have become accustomed to.

Trucks of supplies continue to roll up in clouds of red dust from Freetown, but finding what we need is a challenge. Searching for an IV cannula in a lorry-load of crates is literally and figuratively a needle in a haystack.

I call in the offer of help from the Head of the UK Task Force and five minutes later have the promise of next day supplies by helicopter if necessary, and additional army logistical support to help us with the tsunami of supplies. DfID are under a lot of political and media pressure back home, but in country they are guardian angels.

The news from the evening Command and Control meeting is not good. Moyamba town has managed to avoid Ebola by strict security checks at every entrance point. Yesterday it had its first five cases. The Sierra Leonian army has quickly sealed off the area for quarantine, but the Ebola wolf is at the door and the urgency of our mission could not be greater.

Captain Fefegula ends the evening briefing with sombre words. This is like a fight against terrorists and the warfare is asymmetric: every time we are attacked and send reinforcements, the enemy has melted away. We must work harder, and the reward of our hard work will be more hard work.

MORE BLOG POSTS FROM PROFESSOR JOHN WRIGHT