THE BEAUTY SHOP
Page 34
They move more slowly now, and the wives gather in a cluster and chat and smile while they leave their men to their brotherhood. This is, after all, their day. Some of the men have brought along their grandchildren, and they begin to tell stories, drawing the younger ones close, their innocent eyes wide and eager.
When Mac leaves this place, he will take Stella to East Grinstead and revisit the Beauty Shop at the old hospital in the town that did not stare. The hut that was Ward III still stands. His friend and surgeon, Archibald McIndoe, is no longer among them, having passed in 1960, but his memory lives on in all that he achieved and established. There is talk of a memorial to him and the men. Afterwards, they will stay with Pete and Bea for a few days before they fly home to Montana and their family.
Mac joins Stella, takes her hand, and brushes her lips with his. She is still the light, and he is hers, and like two fireflies they hover here at the beacon of Bassingbourn, the place where it all began.
Author’s Note
This story is a blend of fact and fiction based on the actual story of the Guinea Pig Club. Sir Archibald McIndoe was indeed a real person, a plastic surgeon appointed by the RAF to run one of the four main burns units in the UK. The British government and the armed forces were planning in advance for war, and so when war was declared in September 1939, Archibald had a team in place, and they were ready to receive the first casualties of the war.
When a group of servicemen decided to form a drinking club in July 1941, they had no idea of the scale of their creation. The club would later be renamed the Guinea Pig Club, and the servicemen treated at East Grinstead, under the care of Archibald McIndoe, became known as “guinea pigs”. The fee for membership was incredibly high, and one had to have been fried, mashed, or boiled as a direct result of the war in the air. It is a price many of us would not care to pay and yet, having heard some of the veterans speak about McIndoe and their own treatment, they say they would not change a thing.
What is so remarkable about this story is the sheer scale and power of the club, which is a registered charity, and the innovative approach taken by McIndoe. The two combined created an impressive force that aided and shaped the lives of hundreds of men. These men were not simply treated by a doctor, they were cared for and guided by a philanthropist.
Annual reunions have been held each year, and during these reunions, Archibald McIndoe would re-assess each man if required to see if and when any further treatment was necessary. He quite literally took these men under his wing, and while his methods at the time were viewed negatively by some, they worked, and he helped ‘his boys’ physically, psychologically and socially. He truly did have such great affection for all of them.
While the American pilot in this story was treated at East Grinstead, in reality, this would most likely not have occurred, as the Eighth Air Force would have arranged to care for him appropriately, but I am confident that Archie would have offered to help, had he known about such a man.
The Guinea Pig Club originally had 649 members, and these men came from Britain, America and all across the Commonwealth and Europe, including France, Belgium, Poland, Canada, Australia and New Zealand. They were the brave few who flew small fighter aircraft during the Battle of Britain and beyond and they were the brave men who flew and crewed bomber aircraft. They all gave their thanks to their Maestro, Archibald McIndoe.
Today, there are seventeen remaining members. There is a memorial to this pioneering plastic surgeon, and it stands proudly in the town that did not stare, East Grinstead. In November 2016 a new memorial is to be revealed at the National Arboretum, in tribute to those brave men of The Guinea Pig Club. As long as there are people willing to read and write such accounts, we will never forget those who gave their today for our tomorrow.
The RAF pilots in Fighter Command faced appalling odds of survival, and 3,690 pilots were killed during the Second World War. For those serving with Bomber Command, the odds were formidable. 55,573 men were killed between 1939-1945. A total of 350,000 American men served with the Eighth Air Force in England. Of this number, 210,000 men flew combat missions and 26,000 men were killed.
In memory of Sir Archibald McIndoe (1900-1960), an outstanding plastic surgeon, son, brother, husband, father, and human being. He saw what others did not and pioneered great change. His memory and work live on today.
Acknowledgements
My journey in writing this book has been a long and emotional one, and one which will remain lodged in my heart for many reasons. I would like to thank Dr A. C. Saunders, a member of The Guinea Pig Club, for his help and advice and for relaying his own, harrowing account of the accident that would see him inaugurated into this infamous club in 1945. Mrs Igraine Hamilton was most gracious in agreeing to help and provided much insight into life on Ward III, where she worked as a volunteer from 1940-1941, prior to joining the Women’s Auxiliary Air Force.
Mr R Marchant is the Secretary of the Guinea Pig Club and a Trustee as well as the Guinea Pig Club Advisor at the East Grinstead Museum. His advice has been invaluable, and it was particularly insightful to speak with someone who worked alongside Archibald McIndoe. Simon Kerr, a Trustee at the East Grinstead Museum, the late Ilene Younghusband, a former WAAF & author, and the late Ron Brown, a former flight engineer with Bomber Command gave their time, information and advice for which I am forever grateful.
The photographer, Mr A Akrill, has been incredibly generous in allowing me permission to use some of his B-17 Flying Fortress images for marketing purposes. I am indebted to my many author friends who gave their generous time, and advice, and whose support is truly appreciated. My thanks also go to my amazing editor, Katherine Trail, who had a keen interest in the story and whose insights and encouragement gave me the confidence to write the book. Finally, to my family – thank you for being patient and supportive while writing drew me away. I am truly grateful and blessed.