Some Sunny Day

by Madge Lambert

  They came across one family who were living under a large cotton sheet that was attached to the top of a shoulder-high wall and two wooden poles driven into the ground. Underneath, three little children were playing on the unpaved surface that also served as their bed. The mother looked so weary and downcast that even when Basil dropped a generous handful of coins into her begging bowl she barely had the energy to acknowledge his kindness.

  ‘That was really kind of you,’ said Madge. ‘Imagine living like that. That poor woman looks so weary. It really is very sad.’

  As they walked away, Basil turned to take a photograph as proof of just how truly dreadful the conditions were. Within seconds the calm of the sultry afternoon was brought to an arm-waving, shouting end when a bare-footed man in a badly stained dhoti appeared from under the cotton sheet and started marching towards them. Madge and Basil took the hint and beat a hasty retreat.

  All in all it had been a thought-provoking day in extreme heat and debilitating humidity and Madge was happy to return to the Grand Hotel to freshen up before strolling over to Firpo’s for cakes and a pot of tea.

  As the week wore on they explored as much of Calcutta as they could, strolling the streets and soaking up the atmosphere. On their last evening in the city they decided to try the Great Eastern Hotel for dinner, which in the glory days of the Raj was known as the Jewel of the Far East. The hotel was above a department store so Madge took the opportunity to purchase the six bottles of peroxide that nurses at 56 IGH had begged her to bring back to Chittagong. In spite of closing time approaching she also had a wander around the ladies’ shoe section before time, much to Basil’s amusement, ran out.

  Madge consoled herself by joining Basil in ordering a gin and tonic in the bar of the Great Eastern. As she sipped it in the sultry heat she couldn’t remember having had a more refreshing drink in her life.

  The couple then went through to the dining room where a prominent notice stated: ‘Owing to Rationing – NO A LA CARTE. Under the Bengal Meat Control Rules 3 Items Only Allowed Each Person.’ Madge chose the hot buffet which started with a thick French vegetable soup, followed by a very tasty steak and kidney pie and vermicelli pudding. Basil opted for the cold buffet with chicken pâté, sirloin of beef and the vermicelli.

  ‘This has been both a rather lovely and a very interesting day,’ he told Madge over dinner that night. ‘But most of all today has made me realise just how lucky I have been to meet you in Chittagong.

  ‘When I volunteered at the recruitment office in Surbiton I would never have dreamed that I would be posted to India, and never in a month of Sundays would I have imagined meeting someone like you out here. Madge, I can honestly say this holiday has been the most wonderful week of my life.’

  As Madge hung on his every word Basil reached for the wine, made sure both their glasses were full and added that he would like to make a very special toast.

  ‘Here’s to us. Whatever the future may hold.’

  22

  A Painful Goodbye

  The peace and calm of the holiday was soon broken once Madge and Basil returned to base. When Madge joined Vera for breakfast in the nurses’ mess Vera said that she had been to a cocktail party thrown by one of the US Air Force squadrons the night before and everybody was talking about a German radio report which claimed Adolf Hitler had committed suicide on 30 April, along with his wife, Eva Braun.

  ‘To begin with everybody was really sceptical,’ Vera told Madge. ‘We all thought it sounded more like wishful thinking than reality.’ However, Vera explained, as the evening drew to a close a pilot and his crew, who had just flown one of the giant US transport planes in from Calcutta, arrived at the party for a beer. He had the latest copy of Stars and Stripes, the American military newspaper, which confirmed the story on its front page. ‘Unfortunately,’ added Vera, ‘it was made very clear in the paper that in spite of Hitler’s suicide there’s still no end in sight for this blasted war.’

  Vera was then asked by another of the nurses if there were any more details about Hitler’s death.

  ‘Surely it could just be an elaborate hoax?’ the nurse suggested.

  ‘No. Apparently he shot himself,’ Vera replied. ‘But it was difficult to find out too many details as everyone was desperate to read the article so I had to try to read it over somebody’s shoulder.’

  During the first week of May whispers began to circulate that Allied troops were on the fringe of liberating Rangoon from the Japanese, who had been in control since March 1942. The key, according to the widely repeated rumours, was to get it all sorted out before the start of the monsoon, which they did with just hours to spare. The rains began late on the afternoon of 2 May but the city had been secured by then and the official announcement of the liberation of Rangoon was made the following day.

  Back at HQ Movements, Chittagong, it had been so frantically busy that it was a couple of days before Basil was able to get away to celebrate the 14th Army’s triumph with Madge, who was delighted to see him again.

  ‘It seems like forever since we last met,’ said Madge as she gave him a welcome kiss and a big smile. ‘Thank you again for that wonderful week in Calcutta. I’ve already started wondering where we can go next,’ she added with excitement.

  However, there was no response from Basil to her enthusiasm and Madge was concerned that something was wrong, but put it down to the fact that he had been so busy and working virtually round the clock. He must just be tired, she thought.

  ‘On our next leave perhaps we could go up to Darjeeling,’ she suggested. ‘I’ve been told that you can even see Mount Everest from there and that the views of the tea plantations are out of this world.’ But still there was virtually no response and Madge’s tummy turned in despair. What on earth has gone wrong? she thought.

  Then Basil sighed deeply before gently putting an arm round Madge’s shoulders and telling her he had been included in a Movements unit that was being transferred to Rangoon. ‘I leave by sea in forty-eight hours,’ he said, ‘but I’ve been given tomorrow off to get my things in order.’

  A long and loving hug that seemed to go on forever said more than words could ever express as it suddenly dawned on Madge that it was highly unlikely that she would ever see Basil again in the Far East. She turned away and shook her head so he couldn’t see the tears that were slowly trickling down her cheeks.

  The heartbreaking thought of such a lengthy, or potentially even permanent, separation made her all the more determined to ensure their last day together in Chittagong was one to remember. She suggested they spend the precious hours on a secluded beach.

  What Basil didn’t know as they parted company at the end of lunch was that Madge didn’t even have the following day off, but when Vera heard about the dilemma she instantly agreed to swap shifts. The kitchen staff loved the little memsahib for her good humour after her brave battle with the kite hawk and when Madge explained why she wanted a picnic to take to the beach the following day they were only too keen to help the blossoming romance along.

  When she went to bed that night she thought about how her world that just the previous day had been full of love and enchantment had been turned upside down. Most of all she worried about what would happen to Basil. She worried about his sea voyage down the Bay of Bengal to Rangoon. She worried about the chaos and blood-letting still taking place in the Burmese capital. She worried about the Japanese fighting on the outskirts of the city. She worried about him catching malaria. Eventually she worried herself to sleep as sheer exhaustion brought a merciful end to the emotional turmoil.

  The following morning Madge went straight to the kitchens and could hardly believe the feast that had been produced. She was told with great pride that among the contents of the two huge, flower-decked baskets were freshly baked bread, cold pureed vegetable soup, tomatoes, spring onions, samosas, pakoras, spiced potatoes, curry sauces, chicken breasts, roast beef, and enough cakes, Indian kheer (rice pudding) and fresh fruit ‘to feed the 14
th Army’. Hidden away in the bottom of one of the baskets was an expensive bottle of bubbly the girls in the nurses’ mess at 56 IGH had clubbed together to buy. That’s so kind and thoughtful of the girls. I must remember to thank each and every one of them, she said to herself. The sadness of the previous evening had eased and she suddenly started to laugh. This hospital is no different to any other, she mused. Any news here travels at the speed of light.

  The weather forecast predicted a cloudless, sunny day with light winds and at 10 a.m. on the dot Basil arrived in a chauffeured jeep for the drive to Patanga beach, about an hour north of Chittagong on the Bay of Bengal. The traffic on the way down was mainly military in one form or another.

  A virtually deserted golden beach was bathed in sunlight and the gentlest of breezes wafted through the few palm trees. Just weeks previously there had been numerous freighters and naval vessels off the coast, but many had already moved south so the view out into the placid sea was unblemished. Madge and Basil quickly changed into their swimming costumes, politely and bashfully looking away from each other. They ran into the sea together holding hands and floated on their backs looking at the sky. The water was so warm it felt like they were swimming in a warm bath. Madge knew this was a day she’d never forget.

  They stayed in the water for an age before emerging to enjoy the picnic that had been so superbly prepared by her friends from the kitchen staff at 56 IGH it seemed almost a shame to eat it. The chicken was delicately spiced with masala and there was even horseradish to go with the cold beef.

  ‘You never got to the end of that tale you started on our last night in Calcutta. If you have a moment after your second portion of that delicious rice pudding,’ she teased with a cheeky grin, ‘perhaps you would be so kind as to continue.’

  ‘Well, Nurse Graves,’ he said, ‘as you have asked so nicely I will do so – with great pleasure.’

  He had been telling Madge about how he and his brother Brian fared on the Strathaird, the troopship that took them from Gourock to Bombay on a journey that ended for him in Chittagong.

  ‘We didn’t exactly travel first class like you ladies,’ he said with a smile as they lazed on a rug after lunch.

  The temperature at Patanga was almost 90 degrees Fahrenheit so they went back into the sea to cool down and as they swam Basil continued his story.

  ‘Brian and I were six decks down and on a mess deck with fixed tables. Every night forty or fifty of us cadets would hang our hammocks and swing back and forth together with the ship as it zigzagged in the Atlantic. We had to change course constantly to avoid the German Wolfpacks so the ship was always pitching and rolling. We slept remarkably well,’ he laughed. ‘The main problem was that the heads were always in use as so many of the cadets were seasick!’

  Basil went on to tell Madge how eventually the troopships pulled in to Freetown to take on fresh supplies and remained there for three days. The locals came alongside in their bum boats and sold lots of local produce to the troops by throwing up ropes attached to baskets.

  ‘Children would swim out to our boat and beg for money, but would only dive for silver coins so we covered the copper coins with silver paper and it worked for a while but they soon cottoned on to that,’ Basil said. ‘On the third day we rejoined the naval escorts and continued zigzagging down the Atlantic coast of Africa, past Cape Town and on to Durban, where the beef was even better than what I had in Calcutta!’

  Virtually all the ship’s passengers came on deck as the Strathaird pulled out of Durban harbour to listen to the muchloved Lady in White, a retired opera singer called Perla Siedle Gibson, who sang to all Allied ships ‘There’ll always be an England’, ‘Land of Hope and Glory’ and other favourites through a loudspeaker as she stood on the harbour wall.

  ‘She gave us and, no doubt, thousands of others a huge boost as we steamed out to sea again. I don’t think I’ve ever heard such applause and cheering, and she waved to us until we were out of sight.’

  Basil explained that his ship eventually left the convoy and sailed to Port Suez, where the Argyll and Sutherland Highlanders disembarked to fight in the North African campaign. The troopship then proceeded on the last leg of its long journey to India. Madge interrupted to ask Basil if he wanted yet another helping of rice pudding, but he laughed her off and instead began to tell her about his first memory of Bombay. He said that when the Strathaird arrived there in May the Indian navy had gone on strike, which had escalated into a full-scale mutiny by June. The rebellion had started as a protest over food, living conditions and complaints about racist behaviour by the British and spread to almost eighty boats and shore establishments involving twenty thousand sailors.

  ‘Within four months of arriving in India and after an intensive course at the Officers’ Training Centre in Mhow, 350 miles from Bombay, my brother and I were awarded emergency commissions in the Indian Army, 10th Baluch regiment. We were immediately seconded to Movements and Transportation for operations with the 14th Army in Burma. We then returned to Bombay for more in-depth Movement tuition and while we were living in the Colaba district there was another little incident involving a certain Mr Gandhi that may interest you,’ he told Madge.

  ‘I assure you that I’ve heard so much about Gandhi that anything about him really interests me,’ said Madge.

  Basil held his hands in the air and jokingly asked for permission to continue and when Madge nodded he added that Mahatma Gandhi had not long been released from the Aga Khan’s palace where he had been in custody on hunger strike in protest against British rule.

  ‘A group of us who had been swimming at a pool on Malabar Hill saw him as he walked at the front of a large group of people. It wasn’t a demonstration, just a group following the great man, so I filmed it all on my cine-camera. I was so thrilled to have seen him. After handing the film in to be developed I returned a few days later to find the footage was a complete blank. I’m absolutely certain it was censored because other things had also been removed on the film as well. I was so disappointed to have lost such an interesting piece of history,’ he added.

  The day at Patanga beach just seemed to fly by as Basil continued to tell Madge about his time in India before they met. He told her about how after Bombay he was sent to New Delhi to pick up his own Movements unit complete with staff, office stores, cabinets and a 15-cwt lorry – all of which was transported to Chittagong in time for his arrival before Christmas.

  ‘During the following year I suffered from malaria, then diphtheria a few months later, so I got to know 68 IGH, your sister hospital, quite well. The best thing about the move to Chittagong was it meant I had the lasting pleasure of meeting you,’ he told Madge.

  ‘That’s very kind of you to say so,’ she replied, feeling ever so shy all of a sudden. ‘And it’s important that you know the feeling is mutual. Absolutely mutual.’

  Basil had thought long and hard about what to discuss and what to say on that final day together. He knew already that he was head over heels in love with Madge and under normal circumstances a picnic on a deserted golden beach with the sun beaming through palm trees and a balmy breeze wafting in from the Bay of Bengal would have been an ideal setting in which to ask for her hand in marriage.

  He also thought long and hard about the potential consequences of missing the perfect opportunity in the perfect location. A beautiful English nurse among thousands of lonely, homesick soldiers would never be short of company. It was a community that lived day to day under intolerable pressure. What would happen if through sheer loneliness she fell for another? What if one of those absurdly handsome and infinitely charming American airmen whisked her off to the USA?

  Logically this was the day. This was the hour. But much as he wanted to follow his heart his head told him otherwise. In the end there was a heartbreakingly honourable reason why he decided not to go down on one knee and ask Madge to marry him. He simply couldn’t bear the possibility of this caring, compassionate and very loveable young lady becoming a war
widow at the tender age of twenty-one.

  I just hope with all my heart that everything will fall into place if we ever get back to England and we are able to meet again, thought Basil.

  After another dip to cool down and a short nap they spent the rest of the afternoon letting the cares and worries of the past and future drift on the tide. They talked and talked and Madge made sure that Basil still had her mum’s addresses in both High Wycombe and Dover. He, in turn, double-checked that Madge had the address of his parents Alys and Herbert in Surrey. The question of marriage was never brought up. No promises of undying love were made, but without spelling it out, an unbreakable bond had been formed and Madge dreamed that somewhere, sometime, they would meet again. Even the normally insufferable humidity was the lowest it had been for weeks and Madge thought things were so perfect it was almost too good to be true.

  She was right. An hour later they had both turned bright pink and were on the verge of sunstroke. They’d thought that if they stayed in the sea they wouldn’t be burned by the sun’s rays, but it didn’t quite work out like that as the salt in the water helped to blister their bodies.

  ‘Look at us! We’re red as lobsters,’ said Madge.

  ‘Apart from one place,’ said Basil. Madge looked a little closer at him. The sun had intensified their already yellowish faces into sallow masks.

  ‘If there’s one thing I won’t miss, it’s mepacrine,’ Madge said, covering her own face with embarrassment.

  Basil gently prised her hands from her face. ‘You’re beautiful, no matter what,’ he said as he leaned in for their final, agonising kiss on the beach that day.

  ‘There’s one thing we cannot do,’ he said, as they got ready to leave. ‘We cannot report to the doctor, as putting ourselves out of active duty is a courts martial offence.’

  The sun that had been so seductively brutal was slowly setting as they began the drive back from Patanga to Chittagong. By the time they arrived at the gates to the hospital the sky had turned a vivid and very romantic red. As they sat chatting in the jeep that had picked them up, the sun disappeared at speed to be replaced by a crescent-shaped moon and a multitude of stars.