Morgan, Ginger and I were getting ready to go to the hospital and relieve three others who had been there all day when in rushed Corporal Murray and Amey. ‘Where are you two going in a hurry?’ I asked.
‘We’ve been invited to dinner at the matron’s,’ they replied. ‘Why don’t you come with us?’
‘I have already promised to go on night shift with these two,’ I said, pointing down the hut to Morgan and Ginger.
‘You could come over at about ten,’ Murray shouted as he lathered up for a shave. ‘They have an assistant surgeon on duty now. He arrived today. That’s why we left there early.’
The three of us walked out of the hut leaving them still getting ready. We made our way slowly down towards the main road, along which we passed the now closed and deserted shops. It was about seven in the evening and still quite warm. As we climbed the steps of the hospital veranda the matron came out to meet us. Just behind her was a young Burmese girl. She was small, about five feet in height. Her black hair was done up in the usual top-of-the-head ‘bun’ style. She wore the usual Burmese women’s lace blouse of white with the long dark sarong-style skirt, doubled over at the waist and tucked in. It almost covered her feet, which just peeped out at the hem. The girl looked even smaller against the matron, who had taken her hand and pulled her forward. Taking off our hats, we all said ‘Hallo!’
The matron said, ‘This girl has come to help you boys.’
I turned my head and glanced first at Morgan. He was grinning widely with his blue eyes gleaming. Then I glanced at Ginger, whose face was as red as his hair. His broad smile lit up his face even more. I could not help smiling at the expressions on their faces.
As I turned my head back to the matron, I heard her say, ‘I know that I can rely on you boys to give her all the help she may need. I know that I am leaving her in good and capable hands.’
The matron continued to talk, but we three just stood there mesmerised as we stared at the young girl. She had a pretty oval face with almond dark eyes slightly slanted. When she smiled she showed a perfect set of white gleaming teeth that shone even whiter against her ruby red lips. It took quite an effort to take my eyes off her, back to the large buxom figure of the matron, who was saying, ‘Well, I’ll leave you then, and I will see you in the morning.’ We all bid her goodnight.
The young girl went into the hospital with us following, and led the way into the operating theatre. For a moment we all stood silent. I broke the silence by saying, ‘Well, if we have got to work together, we might as well get acquainted. This,’ I said, putting my hand on Ginger’s shoulder, ‘is Ginger, and this,’ I said, putting my other hand on Morgan’s shoulder, ‘is Morgan.’ (Neither ever liked to be called by their first names.) ‘Me,’ I said, patting my chest, ‘you can call me Fred.’ I gave her a big smile and she smiled back. ‘Now, what’s your name?’ I asked, still smiling.
When she spoke, it was a very meek but tinkling voice, the way Orientals have of seeming to sing their words. In broken English she began, ‘Meeah, namah iss Hohi-Sloh.’ She continued with a very serious look upon her face, ‘Een ingliss, dat meenss, meah iss awll prittee.’ She put her hands to her face and began to giggle in the shyest way that I have ever seen. We made her laugh even more as we tried to say her name.
It was getting quite dark, when there was a commotion outside. Three Indians had a bullock cart drawn up in front of the women’s ward. When they saw us, they came to us and said that they had come to take the wife of one of them away. At first I refused, but Hohi said that as it was the husband it was best to let her go. The woman they wanted had been wounded in the chest. Ginger and I got a stretcher and took her to the bullock cart. ‘Where are you taking her?’ I asked the husband.
‘Many miles away, to my father’s village in the mountains,’ he replied.
We four stood and watched as the bullock cart trundled away into the darkness. ‘Come on!’ I said, ‘Let’s go inside.’ Ginger made some tea, while Hohi, Morgan and I sat at the operating table and made gauze pads and cotton wool swabs. I glanced up at the clock on the wall and said, ‘One of us should go around the wards. Would you like to come with me?’ I asked Hohi. She readily agreed. I glanced at Morgan and Ginger and they were both grinning. Morgan winked, and the girl got up from the table while I got a hurricane lamp and lit it. I strode along the veranda with Hohi following.
Suddenly she caught hold of my arm and in her sweet tinkling voice said, ‘Pliss Frred, doont walk soo quick.’ I slackened my pace, and as I did she slid her hand down my arm and gripped my hand. I was a little taken aback by this, as most of the women and girls had given us the cold shoulder and hardly spoken to us. I looked down at her. Her head came just up to my shoulder.
‘Have you been around the wards with matron?’ I asked, making conversation and looking down at the sweet oval face.
‘No Fred,’ she answered, ‘I had only just arrived before you came.’ She was still finding it difficult to say some of the words properly.
We made a good inspection of all the wards and returned to Ginger and Morgan. They had made some fresh tea, and both of them jumped up to get Hohi a clean cup, but she stopped them, saying, ‘I don’t take milk or sugar.’ We three sat and watched as she moved around the theatre, going from cabinet to cabinet and bringing things out as if she knew where everything was.
When she sat down again, I asked, ‘You are a nurse, aren’t you?’
She looked up from what she was doing. ‘Well, I am partly,’ she answered shyly, lowering her eyes.
‘Well, you know a lot more than we do,’ I replied.
‘No!’ she said shaking her head. ‘You must have had much more training than me,’ she said in that tinkling voice.
We three burst out laughing at this.
With a serious look upon her face, she asked, ‘What have I said that makes you all laugh?’
Morgan, still laughing, said in his Lancashire accent, ‘None of us have ever worked in a hospital before we came here.’
‘That’s true, Hohi,’ Ginger said, grinning.
After that, we must have sat talking for about two hours, still making the swabs and gauze pads. Hohi told us about her childhood, how she had grown up in a village not very far away and her father being the saubur, or chief, of the area around their village.
Although we had had many hot baths and changed our clothes, there were times when the deathly smell from the corpses came up into my nostrils, as though it was coming out from our own bodies. As Hohi talked, this was one of the times, and I began to feel quite sick. Without saying anything I got up from the table and walked outside into the fresh air. Somewhere nearby there must have been a eucalyptus tree, for the scent of it came to me. As I took some deep breaths to clear the horrid stench from my lungs, a sound of music also drifted across to me. It was coming from the matron’s house. A movement near me made me turn. It was Hohi. She was standing very close to me.
‘The lads seem to be enjoying themselves,’ I said, nodding in the direction of the house.
‘Yes,’ she said, ‘I suppose one of them is dancing with the matron.’
‘Yes, I suppose so. Do you dance?’ I asked her.
‘Not your type,’ she replied, giggling.
Our conversation was suddenly interrupted, by three Gurkhas. Two were almost carrying one who had a large patch of blood on his shirt. I shouted to Ginger and Morgan to get a stretcher. We took the wounded Gurkha to a bed while Hohi went and fetched the two assistant surgeons from their quarters. According to the other Gurkhas there had been a duel between the injured man and another who was now under guard.
After a quick examination of the man the two doctors told me to go and get the matron, as an urgent operation was needed. I made my way to the matron’s house as fast as I could. Nearing the house the music became louder, and I could hear someone singing. I knocked on the door, but without waiting to be called in I entered. For a moment I stood there, and then Murray saw me and came to me.
‘Come for a drink, Fred?’ he asked.
‘No!’ I replied, ‘I’ve come to tell the matron that she is needed urgently.’
I looked around the room, but there was no sign of her. Sergeant Friend was the one who had been singing. He had stopped as I entered. He came towards me drunkenly.
‘What’s up, Corporal?’ he asked, slurping, in a loud voice.
I shouted, ‘Where’s the matron? There has been a shooting, and she’s needed for an operation.’
This seemed to get through to them. The sergeant walked to a door which I presumed was the bedroom door. He knocked and shouted, ‘Betty, Betty, you are wanted urgently.’
From within came a faint, ‘Alright, I’m coming.’ She opened the door. As soon as I saw the state that she was in, I knew that I was wasting my time there.
I explained what had happened as quickly as I could.
‘It’s not one of your boys, is it?’ she asked.
‘No!’ I answered thankfully. And if it were, you’d still be of no use, I thought to myself.
‘Tell them that I’m not up to it tonight,’ she managed to reply.
As I turned away I thought, You can say that again! in disgust.
I made my way back to the hospital. Hohi met me at the steps. She was already dressed for action and looked even prettier with a white headpiece covering her black hair, and over her black skirt and blouse a white gown which came right up to her chin.
‘Is she coming, Fred?’ Hohi asked as I climbed the steps.
‘No, I am afraid she isn’t,’ I answered as we walked into the operating theatre.
There were two men scrubbing their arms at the sink, one I recognised as a Mr Farrier. He had been at the hospital from the first air raid. I went to them and told them that the matron was not coming. The other man introduced himself as Mr Bell. He was the senior of the two. He said, ‘Oh well, if she’s not coming, you will have to assist.’
‘Me?’ I asked, taken completely by surprise. ‘I couldn’t do it, sir.’
‘If you don’t, then I shall have to ask one of those men.’ He pointed to Morgan and Ginger. ‘After all, you are the senior,’ he snapped. ‘Now, go and get scrubbed!’
Hohi took me by the arm and led me over to the sink, saying, ‘Come on, Fred, I will help you.’ This gave me a little bit of confidence, but not much. As I scrubbed my arms and hands, Hohi kept up with, ‘Don’t worry, Fred. You’ll get through it alright.’
With rubber gloves and long white smock I really looked the part, but I thought, what if I passed out halfway through, especially at the crucial moment? Ginger and Morgan were getting the trays of instruments ready under the supervision of Mr Farrier. I was standing and looking down at the swabs and pads that we had made that night and thought what a coincidence that we should need them so soon.
Morgan and Ginger were told to go and get the patient. While they were gone Mr Bell gave me instructions on what I had to do. He was going to perform the operation and Mr Farrier was to administer the anaesthetic. Hohi was to hand Mr Bell the instruments on his right hand side, while I was to swab away the blood on his left. ‘Blood is the surgeon’s worst enemy,’ he said, ‘so swab as quickly as you can, as soon as I say swab. I will give you further instructions as we go along.’
The patient was brought in, semiconscious and totally naked, and laid on his back with his legs hanging over the end of the table, at the head of which Mr Farrier proceeded with the mask and chloroform. At my left rear there was a bowl of hot water with a large towel in it. ‘When the intestines come fully out,’ Mr Bell was saying, ‘wring out the towel and drape it over them to keep them warm until I give the word to remove it.’
That was the end of my instructions, for Mr Farrier gave a nod. Mr Bell got a needle and thrust it into the patient’s arm to make sure he was under. I jumped, but the patient never moved.
The surgeon pushed his mask into position and held his right hand out to Hohi who handed him an instrument. Holding it like a pen, he put the point just below the solar plexus and drew it down in a straight line to and through the navel to about six inches below it. I waited with cotton wool swabs for the word to swab. I dabbed away as fast as I could as the blood oozed out of the now gaping canal. Once more the silver blade traced a line, now deeper into the gaping wound. This time the blood flowed even faster. Clips were inserted on each side of the wound and the blood eased off slightly. I was amazed at the thickness of the skin in that region, which was now beginning to dry. I was also amazed at myself at not feeling sick or faint at the sight before me.
Mr Bell paused for one moment before making another cut, then I realised that as he made that final sweep with the blade he was waiting for the stomach to deflate, so that he would not injure the intestines below the now thin divide. As the blade travelled down, out oozed the yellow coloured mass of intestines. Quickly I wrung out the towel and draped it over the moving mass. The surgeon took a slight breather, and then through his mask came a muffled, ‘Right!’ I snatched off the towel and dropped it back into the bowl.
Mr Bell then took hold of the intestines and turned them over in his hands. He found two punctures. He then searched some more and found another puncture. His deft fingers searched among the tubes for the bullet, but there was no sign of it. ‘He’ll pass that out in a couple of days,’ he said through his mask, making us all smile. I raised my eyes to Hohi, but as hers met mine she coyly dropped her gaze in embarrassment.
It did not seem to take us so long to get everything back in again. The most awkward was getting the intestines to stay beneath the stitches as they were pulled together. Once that was done it was fairly easy going, taking off the clips from the main arteries as the wound was sewn together.
Hohi and I finished dressing the patient. Ginger and Morgan, who had watched the whole proceedings, brought the stretcher, and with a drip to his backside we put the patient to bed. On our return to the theatre the two surgeons came and thanked me for the help that I had given.
Morgan, Ginger, Hohi and I cleaned up and got the place back to normal. With Hohi gone now to look at the patient, Ginger volunteered to go and cook an early breakfast. It was about four in the morning when we sat down at the operating table and ate a good meal of bacon, eggs and sweet tea.
At about seven thirty in the morning, the matron came. She looked haggard, as if she had not had any sleep. Hohi and I took her and showed her the new patient. We explained what had been done.
We three left the rest for Hohi to tell and made our way back to our billet. On our arrival back there we found quite some excitement. The whole of the men had been split into three parties. Two of them had already been sent out to destroy installations and anything that may be of use to the enemy, who, we were told, were less than twenty miles away. We three were ordered to get our arms and ammunition and get onto one of the lorries. On board there were explosives, fuse wire, hand grenades and other gear needed for destruction. Our two lorries followed the colonel’s car out of the camp and down the main road that led towards Heiho Aerodrome, which had been used for refuelling and reloading of bombs to our planes. So, we were at this moment going south towards the advancing enemy. The ‘drome’ was about eight miles from Taunggyi.
As we went along, we three were told that we were going to the ‘drome’ to destroy anything that had been left behind by the RAF units that had been evacuated some three or four days before. As we had not been present when orders were given out, we were now told that we would split up into two parties. One was to put charges on the wooden structures of the hangar to wreck it completely, and another party would collect all the drums of petrol, put them onto the runway and set fire to them. This ‘drome’ would be of the upmost importance to the enemy in that it was near enough central for planes to strike across the Irrawaddy to the west and also strike to the east into China.
It was a hazardous drive as the lorries followed the colonel’s car down and around the winding hills, sometimes going at a snail’s pace to manoeuvre the sharp bends in the road. At last we turned up the driveway that led to the airfield. The lorries kept on to the far end where the hangar was. The place was absolutely deserted. We got out and went and viewed the hangar. It had wooden uprights with wooden crosspieces. The roof was covered with corrugated iron sheets. The timber uprights were five by three inches. It was decided that gun cotton slabs lashed to the uprights and using a ring main fuse with a short slow-burning fuse would give us time to get clear. We worked in pairs, strapping two slabs of the gun cotton, one on each side and one higher than the other, so as to have a cutting effect. Sergeant McAteer and Corporal Murray were the two left to light the fuses. We watched from a safe distance as they walked clear, then we all got down. There was a terrific bang, and as we looked up it seemed that the whole structure jumped. And as it came down, it just crumbled and fell flat, sending up a huge cloud of dust. Leaving that we went back to where the other party were assembling all the petrol drums into a huge cartwheel across the runway. The drums were stood upright. We had stripped to the waist, as by this time the sun was getting quite hot. I was very glad that we had eaten that early breakfast, for we had not been given the chance of even a cup of tea.
‘Right lads,’ the colonel said, ‘you can get some shooting practice in.’
Getting away from the huge circle of drums at about two hundred yards, some knelt, some lay down and some stood, picking off selected drums. Between us we must have put about sixty or seventy rounds into the drums. Petrol was pouring out of holes in all directions, but not a single one ignited. ‘Well! What do you think of that?’ said Bob Sharp. ‘If Errol Flynn had been here, he would have done it with one shot,’ he joked. We all laughed.
‘There is only one thing to do, Corporal!’ the colonel called to Murray, who had a Thompson submachine gun. ‘Go in a little closer and see if that will have any effect, but come away quickly if it does.’ Murray went forward, gave one burst, and the whole lot seemed to go up in flames, sending a thick black cloud into the sky.
We all boarded the two lorries. The colonel got into his car and followed it around the outer side of the airfield, to where a stack of about fifty 500-pound bombs were. Into these we pushed sticks of gelignite at various intervals, together with the necessary primers and detonators. These again were all linked up to a main fuse so that they would all go off at the same time. Our last job was to set booby traps in any concealable places. The charges on the bomb stack would go off when we were well clear.
We had left a lookout at the entrance to the airfield just in case of any enemy forward troops coming before we had finished our task, but he reported that there was no sign of them. As we left we looked back onto the raging inferno that we had created. Drums were flying into the air as they exploded. As we climbed the steep hill following the colonel’s car we could hear the sound of gunfire further down in the valley. When we turned onto the main road that would take us into Taunggyi, our trucks were forced to slow down because of the hundreds of refugees that had jammed the road.
All the tooting of the horns made very little difference to them, but eventually we did manage to get through, then our drivers increased speed and made our way back to the camp. Here we heard the latest news. The Japanese were making two thrusts, one in pursuit of the British on the west side of the Irrawaddy, and the other to the east, chasing the Chinese forces towards Lashio. So we were more or less cut off from our own forces, as we were on the east side of the Irrawaddy.
On going into the camp the colonel had decided that we would be more comfortable if we moved into Brigade HQ, which had been evacuated some days before. The place had been left in a shambles. Furniture had been smashed, there were broken lamps and slashed bedding, and torn-up papers were still burning outside in an incinerator. We used this to boil some water for making tea. Among the rubbish, Sharp found an old gramophone, but he could only find one decent record and that was cracked. Someone also found some half bottles of spirits and was drinking from them. Sharp got the gramophone going after coming back from sorting in the rubbish. ‘What do you think?’ he asked. ‘There are about fifty bleeding records out there, and only one that we can play.’ The needle was not much good either. One side of the record was ‘In the still of the night’ and on the flip side was ‘Tonight I see the message in your eyes’.
We sat around on the floor in the darkening room with the lone record being played over and over. I felt a little relieved when Sergeant McAteer came in and asked for six men. I got to my feet and with the others followed him out. While we had been resting, one of the other sections had returned. They had been to the Treasury, with Captain Brown and Sergeant Friend. There they had loaded up twelve bullock carts with sacks of rupees. Then with six men as escort they had been sent on ahead to make a rendezvous with us later. At the same time they had loaded one of our three-ton trucks with sacks of rupee coins. This truck was standing outside, loaded down onto its springs. The sergeant told us to climb in, and with Captain Lancaster driving we headed towards the town. At the main road we took a left hand fork which brought us to the military cemetery. Here the lorry turned slowly and carefully through the gate, almost bringing it down. We stopped there and dropped one man off to keep watch for any Japanese patrols that may be getting near. The lorry then continued on its way, rolling from side to side as it weaved between the gravestones in the meagre light of the shaded headlamps. The captain drove it to the far left hand corner under the shadow of an overhanging crag and hill.
We got down and began to dig out a rectangle the sergeant marked out. We worked in pairs, the sergeant and captain taking their turn. It was a rather large grave and much deeper than usual. When it was ready we placed the bags of coins at the bottom then filled the grave back in with soil and sods of turf. The empty lorry was driven out to wait for us as we brushed away any signs of the lorry being in there.
At the gate of the cemetery we stopped to pick up the lookout, who reported that he had seen lights that looked like a motorised convoy down in the valley. We made our way back the way we had come. As we neared the HQ we could hear the gramophone still playing its well-worn tune.