Some Sunny Day

by Madge Lambert

  ‘Just look at those rascals over there,’ said Madge, as she pointed to the two men, who were holding steaming mugs of Darjeeling tea in their gloved hands. ‘Isn’t that the two who told us it was far too dangerous to travel by car?’

  The girls gave the chortling pair a fearsome telling-off but were placated by early morning brandies and hot tea – and the first hint of dawn. Within twenty minutes the sky was blood red and huge mountains sat under clouds that could have been bowls of cotton wool.

  ‘You won’t get a better view of Everest than this,’ the blond lieutenant told Madge. But the rascal was up to his tricks again and his pal pointed out that it wasn’t actually Everest, but the peak of Kangchenjunga, a mountain that was once thought to be the world’s tallest. Madge and Grace were handed powerful military binoculars and the boys pointed to the real Mount Everest, which they were told was known locally as Chomolungma, goddess mother of the world.

  As they gazed at the stunning beauty of the world’s tallest mountains they noticed that they had suddenly been surrounded by a large group of fellow tourists.

  ‘What’s happening?’ Madge asked the rascal. He told her it was a surprise for her birthday. ‘But that was days ago,’ she replied.

  ‘They don’t know that,’ he laughed.

  Then, with the tallest mountains on earth silhouetted by a blood-red morning sun and the snow-clad Himalayan peaks glittering like diamonds, the sound of a dozen voices resounded across the summit of Tiger Hill as they joined to sing ‘Happy Birthday’. Madge couldn’t help smiling.

  Grace, however, was still far from amused at having made the journey up to Tiger Hill on a mule. She gave the scallywags a second and far more severe rollicking until, by way of an apology, they offered the girls a lift. They hummed and hawed for at least ten seconds before graciously accepting the men’s offer of a drive back to Darjeeling.

  ‘They should have done more to put it right,’ Grace whispered to Madge. ‘They didn’t even ask us out to dinner or for a drink. Shame about that. The least they could have offered in addition to the ride back was a bottle of champagne – or two!’

  There was no stopping her and she added, ‘It may have been more than a hundred miles away from where we were but at least we saw Everest. Shame about the mules!’

  Later that morning, Madge walked down to pick up the shoes she had ordered from the cobblers just off Chowrasta Square in Darjeeling, but there was a slight problem. Instead of copying the fashionable, high-heeled Vogue design in gold and silver lamé they had made three pairs of flat-heeled white brogues. There was no compromise to be had and in the end Madge decided to just leave the shoes at the shop.

  This trip is turning out to be rather eventful, Madge smiled to herself.

  25

  The Japanese Surrender

  Madge and Grace returned from Darjeeling to discover that Winston Churchill had been deposed as Prime Minister. The news had been released in London more than a week earlier that Clement Attlee’s Labour Party had recorded a victory unprecedented in British political history and there was general sense of disbelief in the wards at 56 IGH. The election result was the first of two major surprises because days later rumours began to sweep the hospital that the Americans had dropped atomic bombs of enormous power on Hiroshima and Nagasaki. Then Emperor Hirohito, in a broadcast to the Japanese nation, confirmed Japan’s surrender to the Allies on 15 August.

  In London, King George V said, ‘Our hearts are full to overflowing, as are your own. Yet there is not one of us who has experienced this terrible war who does not realise that we shall feel its inevitable consequences long after we have forgotten our rejoicings today.’

  In Rangoon the news was greeted with wild celebrations when hundreds of troops cheered the attempts to drive a tank up the steps of Government House and in through the front entrance.

  During this time Madge received a letter from Basil. Since it was confirmed that the Japanese had surrendered it has been one long party through the night, he wrote. But we have been told to be on standby for redeployment from Rangoon to Saigon, so I still don’t know when I’ll get to see you.

  In Chittagong, Japanese soldiers continued to arrive at the POW casualty ward so it was still very much business as usual at 56 IGH. Madge had initially thought that the Japanese surrender might bring her and Basil back together, so she was sad to read his letter telling how they were to be driven even further apart. Basil’s unit, which was responsible for running the Saigon docks together with other troops, was assigned the risky task of repatriating captured Japanese soldiers and sailors taken prisoner by the Allies in Vietnam. The Japanese had taken control of the colony, then part of French Indochina, in 1941.

  From the moment the DC-3 on which he was flying to Saigon entered Vietnamese air space, Basil could hear the pilot’s conversation with air-traffic controllers and realised that they were Japanese. When the Allied group landed in Saigon, heavily armed Japanese soldiers drove them in lorries to their billets. However, the Japanese, still fully armed, proved to be a godsend to the Allied forces who had fewer than five hundred troops to protect the French from the Vietnamese at that time and meant that the 20th Indian Division could focus on important day-today responsibilities. The Allied Commander-in-Chief told his Japanese counterpart that they could temporarily retain their arms, and would be responsible for the maintenance of order among the French and Vietnamese populations. When the French military arrived, the Japanese would then surrender all their weapons and equipment.

  It all went all right, Basil wrote to Madge, though as often as the locals were disarmed, the Japanese probably sold, or gave them, more arms. We couldn’t do anything other than warn them to stop, but I will give the Japanese their due because they are well disciplined, know how to work and don’t need to be forced to carry out the new responsibilities. The Japanese officers, to the best of our knowledge, never took advantage of the situation even though they were fully armed. They actually came across as very honourable people.

  The letter left Madge with the same feeling of despair she had had on that last night in Chittagong. I feel even more worried than ever that we’ll never meet again, she said to herself as she lay the letter on her bedside table.

  The battle for self-determination and ultimate control of Vietnam, however, then burst into flames of such ferocity that in Basil’s next letter to Madge he said, I have seen more violence and killings here in Saigon since the war ended than ever I did when it was on. I suppose it all belongs to the hand of fate.

  Basil was grateful when full postal links were finally set up. He hadn’t heard from Madge for some time and was longing to know that she was well and to find out if a date had been set for her return to England. When letters did start to arrive from Chittagong, however, there would be silent spells and then they would arrive in threes or fours. Reading them out of sequence was a bit of a nuisance but Sister Blossom, back at the hospital in Chittagong, was an expert in the vagaries of both military and non-military mail systems and suggested to Madge that she place a number on the envelope so the letters could be read in order. It worked and communication between Nurse Graves and Captain Lambert began to follow a well-worn route.

  Although Basil was careful not to worry Madge in his letters, simply walking onto the second-floor balcony of his quarters at the Majestic Hotel was like Russian roulette because Viet Minh snipers would target unwary foreigners. In one letter he wrote, Each morning I am working in my office in the Saigon docks to issue the day’s duties to a Japanese officer who arrives with an escort. Both are always armed as that was one of the stipulations of their surrender. A couple of mornings ago the officer walked in and after saluting started hissing at me! As I was sitting behind my desk I could see my pistol in my drawer, but I was still very apprehensive as I had no idea if he was about to pull out his weapon and shoot me! Anyway, nothing of the sort happened and when I mentioned it afterwards, I was told that the hissing was actually a sign of respect!

&
nbsp; In another, he wrote, We have all the necessary troops in now and they have taken over the guard duties so it won’t be long before the Allies start disarming the Japanese. At present we don’t know where we will end up, but it makes my blood boil to think that we have had to fight one war and after winning we may have to fight many more that don’t really interest us.

  Good on you, Basil, thought Madge after reading his latest letter. He’s absolutely right because the last thing we need is to get involved in another confrontation.

  One evening, Basil was invited to the home of a wealthy and well-connected Chinese businessman, Charlie Choy, in the Cholon district of Saigon. Basil wrote that he had met Charlie and his wife in a restaurant where he was dining with Movements friends and the following week he was invited to join a multi-national group of fifteen who were treated to ‘a veritable feast’ that stretched to twelve courses.

  The Chinese food was delicious and the conversation was fascinating because we all ended up discussing Vietnam’s bid for independence. Charlie told us that Ho Chi Minh, leader of the Viet Minh, has declared himself President of the Democratic Republic of Vietnam. I suppose it’s very similar to the Jai Hind movement in India – Vietnam wants the French out and an end to French-Dutch domination of Indo-China, and that is what the fighting is all about.

  Basil went on to explain how one aged but highly articulate Vietnamese guest had said that there were many reasons the Vietnamese wanted the French to go home. There had apparently been a feeling in the country for many years that it was being exploited by the French. They have tried to change the language and education of the Vietnamese, as well as their religion, and I have to say, by the end of the evening I was pretty convinced that the time has come for them to leave Vietnam and hand the country back to the Vietnamese.

  Early in 1946, Basil was then posted to Labuan Island off the northwest coast of Borneo to assist with the repatriation of Japanese POWs held on Papan Island to their homeland. He wrote to Madge that he had been appointed to staff captaincy and had been sent there to relieve the Australians who were either returning home or continuing their good work in Tokyo. Labuan Island has been thoroughly destroyed by the fighting and bombing during the last few years and the only parts left of the old town are the foundations. It’s really quite sad. But on the plus side, the island is beautiful and the bathing and the coconuts are excellent! Any inhabitants becoming ill have an excellent hospital to care for them.

  Good old Basil, thought Madge, who giggled at the thought of him sitting outside his tent in the sunshine in front of a little wooden table with tender chunks of coconut in a dish, although she knew he would be working hard on his army responsibilities.

  The letter ended by saying that on a more serious note, one of the Australians told him that papers had been found at Batu Lintang, a Japanese internment camp on Borneo, ordering the execution of two thousand Allied prisoners of war to be carried out on 15 September 1945. Fortunately the official Japanese surrender had taken place just thirteen days earlier, and had no doubt saved all those many lives.

  26

  Homeward Bound

  After months of rumours, the announcement on 1 April 1946 that a date had finally been set for the return of the 250-strong VAD contingent to England was treated as just another April Fool’s Day joke. It was followed a month later, however, with letters stating that they would be leaving Chittagong in the first week of June. They were to travel by train from Calcutta to Bombay before embarking on the MV Georgic for the sea journey to Liverpool.

  ‘Marvellous, absolutely marvellous news,’ said Madge in the nurses’ mess. ‘I will miss it here but we’ve all been away from home for so long and the thought of seeing Mum, Doris and Doreen is just wonderful.’

  ‘It really is,’ said Vera. ‘I can’t wait to get home and see my parents.’

  ‘And as we’ve all become accustomed to packing and moving within hours, it’s also going to be something of a treat to have a little more time to get our things together,’ said Phyl, to which the other girls nodded in agreement.

  Madge had been summoned once again to Matron Ferguson’s office the day before the initial announcement. Surely it’s not going to be another ticking-off, she told herself after knocking on the door.

  ‘Come straight in,’ said Matron who had looked out of her office window to see Madge walking down from her basha. ‘I haven’t got much time, Graves,’ she said, ‘because there are a lot of things going on at the moment, but I just want to thank you for everything you’ve done at 56 IGH since you arrived. That includes some of your bloopers because even though I tried not to they always made me laugh.’

  Madge was lost for words as Matron handed her an envelope and told her to ‘have a browse through this when you get a spare moment. You’re a bonza nurse. Even if you are a Pom!’ With that she pointed to the door and said, with great affection, ‘Shoo, go on, off you go. You’re late for your shift!’

  It wasn’t until later in the morning when she had a ten-minute tea break that Madge had time to open the envelope and read the handwritten note it contained, which said:

  Miss Graves has done outstandingly good work in this unit during the last eighteen months. She has gained a great deal of experience in surgical and medical nursing and has been called in to take heavy responsibility when there were few trained sisters. This she has accepted cheerfully.

  She has had the management of busy wards, with the added difficulties of untrained nursing sepoys and ward servants as staff.

  She has taken complete charge of a sisters’ mess of forty members and her book keeping was faultless. She will be efficient at any work she chooses to undertake.

  Olive Ferguson

  Principal Matron

  56 IGH (C)

  Chittagong, 31/3/1945

  Madge wiped a tear from her eye before placing the note carefully back inside the envelope.

  After the initial excitement over the news that they would be returning to England, Madge set about sorting out what, and what not, to pack. She couldn’t believe some of the things she had accumulated and ended up giving lots to Ahmed, her bearer, who had been so kind and supportive throughout her time in Chittagong.

  That night of the official announcement she wrote to Basil at his address on Labuan Island, Borneo, to tell him the good news and added that she was counting down the days until his return to England. Next she wrote a lengthy letter to Mum, Doris and Doreen to say that she would be leaving India in June, but realised she would almost certainly walk back into the family home, 168 Union Road in Dover, before the letter arrived.

  I’ll leave a little bit of my heart in Chittagong, thought Madge as she packed up the last of her belongings. It was a bittersweet goodbye because there had been lots of very happy times as well as a wonderful team spirit at the hospital to make up for the dreadful injuries and illnesses the nurses had had to deal with on the wards.

  Her happiest memory, of course, was of meeting Basil and she wished he could have been there at the farewell party that took place in the nurses’ mess. Sister Blossom, the endlessly supportive, endlessly patient and endlessly smiling defender of her beloved young VADs, broke down in floods of tears when she was thanked for being ‘the most wonderful foster mother to a group of very grateful girls who will be forever in your debt’. The nurses had secretly accumulated numerous boxes of dresses, skirts, shoes and jewellery that would be far from suitable attire back home in the UK where the average temperature was less than half of that in Chittagong. The boxes were presented to Blossom so she could share them with the rest of the hospital staff.

  On a normal day in the mess the sister would be constantly on the go, but at the party, which was dedicated to ‘Mother Blossom’, the grateful nurses wouldn’t let her lift a finger. There was one last surprise when she was told to close her eyes and hold out her hands, into which a large brown envelope, loaded with a volume of rupees that underlined the VADs immense gratitude, was placed.

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p; The ever reliable Ahmed, Madge’s bearer, made sure that the party ended with laughter instead of tears when he marched in wearing one of the dresses she had given him for his sister, a big floppy sun hat and bright red open-toed, high-heeled shoes.

  The voyage back on the Georgic was very different from when Madge had sailed out. They could sit and sunbathe without having to wear life jackets, people could smoke on deck at night and the boat was lit up like a Christmas tree after dark instead of operating under strict blackout regulations.

  The girls travelled first class and Madge was delighted to find that the food was simply magnificent. Steaks, roasts, bananas and a huge choice of fresh fruit and butter were all available. There was a shortage of nothing. The war was over and this time the boat didn’t have to keep zigzagging to avoid German submarines. Once the Georgic had cleared the Suez Canal and entered the Mediterranean they were on the last leg home and the girls spent exhausting days getting a proper tan.

  ‘Where’s your life jacket, Nurse Graves?’ laughed Vera, as they relaxed with Grace in the early morning sunshine while the Georgic cruised gently on a surface that was as flat as a millpond.

  ‘There’s only one problem with all this,’ smiled Grace. ‘It’s all too perfect!’

  Indeed, within an hour the public address system burst into life with an announcement. ‘We must inform you that a passenger has been diagnosed with smallpox and will be taken to hospital in Malta, where there will be a short stopover.’

  ‘I thought that this was all too good to be true,’ said Madge, ‘but I’m sure there are worse things in life than being stuck on a ship in the Med for a few days.’

  ‘The biggest problem for us is that sunbathing is simply so exhausting,’ said Vera with a straight face. ‘Sometimes I feel so tired after so many hours in the sun I really need to have a sleep!’

  The rest of the voyage to Liverpool was virtually a luxury cruise, though Madge couldn’t help but shudder again when they sailed over the watery grave of the Strathallan off the Barbary Coast of Algeria on the approach to Gibraltar. Even the Bay of Biscay was on its best behaviour as they continued north, and into Liverpool. There they had a stark reminder of the fearful destruction that had befallen the courageous city in the eighty air raids mounted by the Luftwaffe in a bid to cripple the vital northern port. Next to London it was the most heavily bombed city in the UK.