The northwest coast of England differed in a multitude of ways from the west coast of India, not the least of which was the weather. When the Georgic left Bombay in June 1946 the temperature was in the low nineties. By the time the boat docked in Liverpool a bracing wind was swirling across the Mersey and the VAD contingent were wearing coats, sweaters and cardigans for the first time since the outward-bound voyage that started from Gourock in July 1944.
Thrilled as they were at the thought of finally walking on home soil again, the VADs were far from amused to be greeted by medical authorities who insisted they undergo yet another smallpox inoculation, which for Madge was the fourth in just over two years.
As darkness fell and the girls were finally released to board buses waiting at the dockside, Madge turned to Vera and Phyl and couldn’t help smiling at the end of a very frustrating last few hours. ‘At least there’s now light in our darkness,’ she said.
‘What on earth do you mean by that?’ asked Vera.
‘We’re all too blind to see,’ answered Madge. ‘The street lights are on. There’s no more blackouts!’
‘Come on, geerls, yer supposed to be ’appy now youse all home again,’ said a kindly old Scouse porter on the concourse at Liverpool Lime Street station, which was the end of the line for the 250-strong group of VADs. They had journeyed many thousands of miles to nurse soldiers with appalling injuries and woken to the sound of heavy artillery and small-arms fire on the front line in the Burma Campaign with a devotion to duty and unflinching courage way beyond the call of duty.
Now, suddenly, it really was all over. Addresses had long been exchanged on the voyage from Bombay and the time had come for the parting of ways. There were tears and emotional hugs as the very brave young women said goodbye and prepared for the next chapters of their lives.
‘If you find another one like Basil, pop him in the mail for me,’ said Vera before giving Madge and Phyl lengthy embraces. Along with Grace who was heading back to Yorkshire, Vera searched for the train that would take her to Manchester and then north to Sunderland.
For Madge and Phyl the journey from Lime Street to London seemed to take forever but Madge stayed awake to see towns and villages with street lights on at night. They said their goodbyes at Euston, with Phyl heading west towards Reading. There was one last change for Madge before she finally reached Dover Priory station on a crisp, bright morning and slowly made her way across the concourse. There was no hero’s welcome for those returning from the Burma Campaign. No band playing. No parade with drums beating. No welcoming speech from the Mayor. Instead, the greeting Madge received was infinitely better because there serving tea on the station concourse in her green uniform and little hat at the WVS stand was Mum! The letter Madge had sent to say she was on her way home had not arrived so Lily was shocked beyond belief when her firstborn appeared on the concourse at Dover Priory.
‘Mum!’ Madge called. ‘Mum, I’m home!’
Lily put a hand to her mouth in shock before the tears gushed and the two women ran towards each other.
Madge hadn’t wept when she ran for her life to air-raid shelters as Dover was being bombed and machine-gunned by the Luftwaffe. Or when the town was shelled from across the Channel. Or during the deafening, terrifying silence when doodlebug engines cut out over London. Nor when the Japanese spat in her face. It had been important to be brave when she said that heartbreakingly painful goodbye to Basil in Chittagong. The rattle of small-arms fire near the casualty clearing station in the Burmese jungle hadn’t upset her. But when Mum wrapped her arms round her eldest daughter, the tears finally flowed. Madge was home.
The last time she had set eyes on the family house in Dover, the front door had been blown in by a bomb blast, the wind was driving sheets of rain in from the English Channel and an air-raid siren had just sounded the all-clear, but even so, it had still been home sweet home. The feeling was quite the same as Madge stepped back into the house in which she had lived as a child. It made her think about the sacrifices and the wonderful job Mum had made of bringing up three daughters on her widow’s pension.
‘When do I get the pleasure of seeing my little sisters?’ Madge asked with a smile.
‘Well, for a start they are not so little now,’ she replied. ‘Doris is still working in the Land Army on the farm near East Grinstead, but Doreen is normally back from school around half past four.’
Mum asked what Madge was smiling about. ‘It seems silly really,’ she said, ‘but the reason is that I’ve just enjoyed the simple pleasure of having a glass of water straight from the tap!’
‘What did you do in India?’ asked Mum.
‘Boiled it,’ smiled Madge. ‘We boiled everything. Boiled water was even used when you cleaned your teeth.’
Lily realised in that moment how different life must have been in India for her eldest daughter and just how much they had to catch up on.
Madge was entitled to a long period of leave which helped her ease back into an England that was paying the price of six ferociously costly years of war. Food was still strictly rationed and supplies of bacon were actually lower than when Madge had left for India in July 1944.
The rationing worried her far less than the lack of communication with Basil, who said on that last night in Chittagong that whatever happened to him he would really appreciate it if she would spend time with his parents when she got home. Madge didn’t even know if he was aware that she was back living in Dover, but once she had settled in, she contacted Basil’s mother and father and was invited to spend a weekend at their home in Surrey.
Madge was told that there would be somebody to meet her off the train when she got to Woking, and she could hardly believe her eyes as she came out of the station, looked across the road, and there he was. Her heart leapt. ‘Basil!’ she shouted. ‘Basil!’ But she had another surprise when she realised it wasn’t Basil, but his brother Bill. She was disappointed but was able to see the funny side. He introduced himself as Basil’s eldest brother just as a group of people came out of a nearby pub to find them standing there doubled up with laughter.
‘Goodness knows what those people must have thought,’ Madge said eventually after they had composed themselves. ‘We must have looked like we were cracking up!’
Madge knew from a letter she had received from Basil that Bill had been wounded by shrapnel in northern France in the spring of 1945, but nothing was mentioned and she decided it was better not to bring the subject up. Bill was very charming and it turned out that Madge was actually very lucky to meet him as he was still in the army and was spending a long weekend at the family home in Horsell for the first time in months.
‘The kettle’s on,’ said Basil’s mother Alys as she gave Madge the warmest of welcomes after Bill had guided her on the short walk to the house. When he told Alys and his father Herbert about the saga at the station the sitting room filled with laughter. The ice had been broken in less than five minutes.
‘Ah, don’t you go worrying about it, love,’ said Alys as she poured the tea. ‘Those boys look so similar from the back that even I’ve got them mixed up over the years – and more than once!’
She went on to tell her about her other children – Buster (Cyril), Beryl, Brian, and Bob – before Herbert asked if she knew when Basil was returning to England. When Madge replied that she wasn’t even sure where he was, let alone knew when he was coming back, it made everybody smile again.
‘Did you have a nice few days up there?’ asked Madge’s mum when she returned to Dover.
‘They couldn’t have made me feel more at home,’ said Madge. ‘It was like being one of the family and there was the loveliest of surprises just as I left because I’ve been invited to the wedding of Brian, one of Basil’s younger brothers.’
After her Surrey visit, Madge received a phone call from Grace, who was living back in Yorkshire. Grace wondered if she would be interested in helping her eldest sister Hetty, who owned a maternity home in Birchington-on-Sea, north of
Dover. Madge said she would be happy to do that for just two months.
It was such a change to nursing in the Burma Campaign, because in the main there was such joy and happiness when babies were born. She also had Grace, who was staying at her sister’s nursing home for a few weeks, to show her the ropes, which made her feel very much at ease. Grace refused to let her stay down in the dumps and never tired of listening to her talk about how long it would be before she would see Basil again.
In Chittagong the nurses had been so short of bandages at one stage that they had had to tear sheets into strips, and they had had to make their own cotton buds as well as absorbent pads at times. So it was a major bonus for Grace and Madge to have everything readily available.
The two months soon turned into many more and along the way Madge spent a pleasant autumn weekend in Horsell with Basil’s mother and father, who diplomatically never once brought up the great unaskable question. Unlike her much loved younger sisters Doreen and Doris, who drove her to distraction asking when Basil was coming home and when she was getting married.
They were told repeatedly that the subject of marriage had not been discussed with Basil in Chittagong and that she simply had no idea when he was coming back.
‘It’s none of your business anyway, you nosy parkers,’ she found herself saying repeatedly.
One late afternoon as the nights began to draw in and autumn leaves carpeted the grounds of the nursing home, Madge was told by one of the hospital juniors that there was a telephone call for her.
‘Thank you,’ said Madge. ‘Do you know who it is?’
‘Sorry, Nurse Graves, but I wasn’t told.’
It was such an awful connection that Madge didn’t realise it was Basil until his voice suddenly came through loud and clear saying that he was in Singapore after leaving Labuan. Madge was so surprised that she could barely speak.
‘I’ve no idea when I’m coming home, but the sooner the better because I’m missing you so much,’ said Basil. ‘I’m longing for the day when we can be together again.’ He added that when he got an embarkation date he would let everyone know. Infuriatingly, before Madge could even ask how he was, the line crackled and cut out, much as it had done when he got through to the hospital in Chittagong to wish her a very happy birthday.
Because of the time difference it was already almost midnight in Singapore, but Basil sat down to write Madge a long letter to bring her up to date:
As I mentioned in our phone call, I have now returned to Singapore and the contrast between sitting in a tent eating British Army bully beef and beans for lunch on the war-torn beach of Labuan in place of having the most delicious roast served from a silver trolley in Raffles Hotel was remarkable.
The fact that I have had lunch in the most famous hotel in the Orient with two of my brothers was an absolute treat. We were so determined to make up for lost time that each ordered a Singapore Sling to start the proceedings. I hadn’t seen Bill since 1942 and it had been almost two years since I had last met Brian at a Movements unit on the Brahmaputra River. He’s here on Troops Movement business as well. Bill didn’t really say why he’s in Singapore other than that he’s been posted to the Allied Land Forces to help investigate Japanese war crimes. These organisations had major problems because of lack of staff and though there were almost 9,000 suspects under arrest fewer than 1,000 had been charged. Can you believe it?
I suppose this is as good a time as any to fill you in on a little of the family background. I loved the story about when you first met Bill and he has asked me to send his best regards ‘to the lovely Madge’. I would have been surprised if he had mentioned his wartime adventures or anything about the head injury he suffered so here goes. Bill joined the TA in 1938 and enlisted for war service with the Royal Artillery in 1939. He was posted to northwest Europe on 6 June 1944 and in January 1945 suffered a shrapnel wound to the head, which resulted in him being evacuated from a casualty clearing station to Basingstoke Hospital, where he spent weeks recovering. Bill was promoted from lieutenant to captain and then major before being posted here to Singapore in October.
Lunch at Raffles wasn’t exactly the time or the place to discuss war crimes and we didn’t talk about Bill’s injury, because we had so much to catch up on. Those Singapore Slings certainly helped! A very jolly waiter with a turban and rather splendid moustache told us that when the Japanese invaded Singapore the staff at Raffles had already buried the silver, including a beef trolley, and he pointed it out. He also claimed that when the Japanese marched into the hotel they found guests enjoying one last waltz. After three Singapore Slings each it almost sounded plausible!
At the end of a rather splendid afternoon we raised our glasses in an emotional toast to the family and absent friends. It made me yearn to be with you all the more.
Love,
Basil
It was November when Madge received the letter and the first thing she thought when she read it during a break at the maternity home was how marvellous it would be if Basil managed to get home for Christmas. Her mind ran riot for a moment wondering whether they would spend it with his family or with Mum and the girls, before she returned to the wards.
In fact, a few days later Basil’s hopes of making it back to dear old Blighty in time for the festivities were given a huge boost when he received a message that he knew would be confirmation of his repatriation from the Far East. Others had received similar letters the week before. Basil opened it with a pounding heart to discover that he been given a berth on board the RMS Andes, but the embarkation date was not until 17 December 1946 so that put an end to dreams of a Christmas reunion. Try as he might, he could not get another phone call through to the maternity home where Madge was living or to his mum and dad in Woking. There was a small chance a letter might get through before he arrived home so he dashed a note off.
Coming home via the Suez Canal, RMS Andes created a new record for a sea journey between Singapore and Southampton of just sixteen days, fifteen hours and thirty-one minutes. From the moment it left to the time it pulled into the famous old Channel port, the Andes maintained an average speed of 21.66 knots and broke the previous best by almost three days.
All aboard the Andes expected their journey to take almost a week longer and for Basil it was the most wonderful boost because throughout the journey he was counting down the days until he could be reunited with his mum and dad and hold Madge in his arms again.
27
Wedding Bells
Basil could hardly bear the tension as he waited with hundreds of demob-happy troops to disembark from RMS Andes as it pulled in to Southampton with flags flying in early January 1947.
Raucous cheering broke out when an announcement came over the public address system to confirm the new record and this was followed by repeated singing of ‘Rule Britannia’, which was conducted with great gusto by a huge, red-haired Scot standing on top of one of the lifeboats with his kilt swirling in a lively breeze.
Two ear-splitting blasts from the ship’s horn put an end to that, however, and signalled the start of an endless procession of hundreds of men from ship to shore that ended when they were marched to a demobilisation centre where they were issued with rail tickets.
As time wore on Basil became more and more frustrated because he had dreamed for days on the voyage from Singapore of how quickly he would phone his parents and Madge after setting foot back on English soil for the first time since 1943. He had even changed money on the Andes to ensure he would have coins for the call, but there was a problem. The queues for the phones were enormous and he became increasingly worried that by the time he did get through, her shift at the nursing home would be long over, so he simply got the train from Southampton Central to Woking. When he arrived at his front door, he gave his mother and father the nicest of shocks because the letter he mailed to them hadn’t arrived and the boat had docked almost a week early anyway.
Almost as soon as he had greeted his parents and dropped his bags in the
hallway, Basil picked up the phone to Madge, who ran to the telephone when she was told she had a call.
‘Hello? Basil? Is that you?’
‘Yes, it’s me, darling Madge. I’m home!’
Madge held a hand over her mouth to suppress a sob of delight. ‘Oh Basil, that’s the most wonderful news ever! When can I see you?’
It seemed there were yet more obstacles in the couple’s way when Madge remembered that she was supposed to be working all weekend. Grace, however, came to the rescue.
When Madge put the phone down from Basil, looking forlorn at not having been able to arrange when they could see each other, Grace asked her what was wrong.
‘Oh, stop worrying, Madge,’ Grace said once Madge had explained the situation. ‘After what we’ve been through together, the least I can do is change my days off and fill in for you. I know you’d do the same for me.’
Madge practically squealed with delight as she threw her arms around Grace to thank her.
Madge called her mother and Basil and the big reunion was scheduled for late Friday afternoon at the Graves’ family home in Union Road, Dover. However, it didn’t turn out to be the big romantic scene Madge had had in her mind. When Lily told Doris that Basil was coming she arranged to leave the farm in East Grinstead early so she would be home when he arrived, and Doreen held top-level discussions with her school friends about the situation! The result was that when Basil knocked on the door just after 6 p.m. on the Friday evening there was an unholy scramble between the sisters to give him the once-over. He gave Madge a great big hug in spite of the audience, and that was that. They all loved him!
Some Sunny Day Page 26