Some Sunny Day

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.

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.

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.

‘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.

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!’

‘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.

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.