大象传媒

Mrs Greta Underwood, served as a 鈥榁AD鈥� (Voluntary Aid Detachment) nurse in India and Burma 1944 to 1946, and was awarded the Burma Star. The British Schools Museum, Hitchin is proud to enter her story, with her permission, to the 大象传媒 People鈥檚 War archive. Greta still works as a volunteer in our museum. The story is provided in several parts, please read them all. This is part 3 of 4 parts. Part 1 is A4859571, part 2 A4859652, part 4 A4859814

A4859715 Part 3, Travelling and working across India, and I meet my husband.

In August 1944, I had arrived in Bombay, India, and been taken to a transit camp at Kirklee General Hospital.

The troops in jungle green and bush hats were back from the forward area for a rest period. Fighting was almost at a standstill during the monsoon, but tropical diseases and fevers were rife. Groups of English girls wandering around caused quite a sensation. We were used as a propaganda exercise and all this was filmed and in the news press to encourage and increase the Indian Nursing Service (so we were told). Also to boost morale - Burma had fallen, allied troops were unaccustomed to the tropical diseases, the Southern part of India seemed to know very little of the war in South East Asia. Patients, staff and MOs moved back to the Indian border. We wondered what effect this publicity would have when we eventually met and worked with the QAs who had been through hell and without leave.

A visit from the Principle Matron in Chief (India) told us there was a great need for nurses in Southeast Asia Command (SEAC). Then a lecture from the security office started the countdown, and he finished his talk by saying 鈥淲hilst working in hospitals you will hear many different dialects and languages that you do not understand, but the majority can and do speak English鈥�.
A visit to the QM stores added to our equipment 鈥� camp bed, valise, bedroll, canvas bucket, basin and bath, making a total of four pieces. The main discussion was the bath 鈥� it was supported by a wooden frame, rather like the frame of a card table. Opened out it was about six inches high, the bath had a loop on each corner fixed onto the frame, which held about 3 or 4 inches of water. Having a bath in a 3 foot square canvas was very good practice for yoga! Also on issue were canvas mosquito boots 鈥� I bet the QM was glad to see the back of those. But what a laugh; the mind boggled. Those boots had pointed toes, canvas tops to thigh level, to fasten on to suspenders.

Staff at the hospital that nine VADs and myself were posted to said they were looking forward to our arrival until they read about us in the SEAC newspaper. It didn鈥檛 go down very well. Hospitals remained full. This was 91 IGH(C), General Wingate鈥檚 Chindit hospital, and he had been killed in a plane crash. But when the QAs heard our side of the story 鈥� finding a press man at every turn 鈥� it wasn鈥檛 long before we were living happily together. Especially the story of mosquito boots; how they were to be kept hoisted, when trousers to be worn from sunset to sunrise was the order of the day. How thankful we were the press photographers were not around! In fact we didn鈥檛 use them for the original purpose. We found that by cutting the tops off, they made good wellies to protect our ankles and legs from creepy crawlies during the monsoon, even if they weren鈥檛 waterproof. All this equipment we carted around from posting to posting.

Then we were bound for Calcutta on a hospital train with air conditioned carriages and 鈥榯hrough鈥� corridors. Our meals were served by the Indian sepoys (privates). What a treat after three weeks of being used as propaganda in the evening and working at the hospital in the day, in the tropical heat. It was a three day journey from Bombay. I didn鈥檛 ever find out why the last one and a half days were travelled with the window blinds down. Maybe 250 white girls would be a distraction!

By this time I was beginning to wonder where my husband Maurice was and whether we would ever meet here.
The 250 strong detachment was split up according to our postings. Ten of us including myself and Diana Cooper were billeted at the Catholic convent (Loreta Convent Entali) where Mother Theresa used to teach. We were welcomed into their midst with great kindness.

Then an evening of anticipation for me. A Captain Underwood was searching for me via the RTO (Route Transport Office) through our liaison officer. I had given the convent鈥檚 number but due to a change of staff and a misunderstanding it had not been passed on to Maurice (who was a movements officer). So my excitement faded as the evening wore on, and Maurice, I now know, had spent the night trying to locate the ten missing VADs.

The following morning we were on the move again; we were taken to Howrah station to board the mail train bound for Sylhet in Assam, with the four pieces of luggage per person. The pandemonium began with a group of jabbering coolies arguing which team should take our luggage! The RTO sergeant escorted the four VADs to the compartment, as it was put on the train, and paid the porters. We were advised not to leave any luggage unattended in any public area, nor on public transport. So, with two members in each carriage, four escorted 40 pieces of luggage whilst two stayed with the remainder on the platform to make sure none were left on the station. All aboard and we were on our own.

Unlike the hospital train, the Indian Railway trains had no corridors and stopped at every station, which were one and a half to two hours apart with no platforms. One was always on the lookout as there were as many passengers on the roof, footplate and buffers as there were in the carriages.
The Reverend Mothers from the Convent had provided us with fruit, food and drinking water in our bottles, so we settled down to discuss our actions for the journey like washing, eating, sleeping and luggage duties.

The train was travelling at speed when we were stunned to see an Indian face outside of our window. It turned out to be the 鈥榬estaurant car鈥� worker informing us the restaurant would be open at he next stop, and off he went swinging along the outside to pass the message along to the other passengers, returning the same way.
Then we tossed a coin; half went for their meal while the remainder stayed to look after the luggage, waiting for their return when the train stopped again.

When we had all eaten and returned to the carriage we prepared for bed before dark. It was a work of art to fix the top bunks and mosquito net, but we managed with difficulty.

Before going to sleep my thoughts wandered back to the Convent. Much to my disappointment there had been no sign of Maurice and no message from the RTO. I decided not to give up hope, even though India is a big country. At least we had both been in Calcutta at the same time, so we cold not be far apart. And so to sleep.
It was 0600 hours and I was barely awake when suddenly I knew that voice. The voice I had not heard for two and a half years. 鈥淚s VAD Mrs Underwood there?鈥� I was struggling from under my mosquito net and to hug Maurice at the same time. I grabbed my shoes, put my coat over my pyjamas and we ran along the railway line to his compartment. At least my companions were able to complete their ablutions and dress by the time the train arrived at the next station and hour and a half later.

Maurice had boarded the train at an earlier connection. When we arrived at his carriage (with seconds to spare) the two top bunks were occupied by an Indian priest and an Indian 鈥榓rmy鈥� officer. They were very understanding and stayed there until the train stopped again. Then Maurice and I ran back to my compartment at the same time as Diana Cooper ran along the opposite side with my clothes! All was well, Diana arrived back in time. My husband was being entertained by my friends relating our experiences since leaving London, while I got ready for lunch break.

At last we transferred to the ferry that would take us across the Brahmaputra River. We were now in South East Asia Command (SEAC), once again dogged by photographers and press. We were determined to prove ourselves and that we worked well together. At the same time the QAs were relieved to get some extra help.

1945, and early in the new year we all received our movement orders, The complete hospital was on the move but no-one knew where to. Six VADs including me were the first to be posted to Comilla (Bengal).
Diana Cooper and one other VAD worked at the 3rd Neurosurgical Hospital. We remaining four were also billeted there but worked with the Casualty Air Evacuation Unit, going on duty at 10am and remaining until the last 鈥榯ouch down鈥� - sometimes until midnight. Our duties were to prepare to receive sick and wounded personnel. The flight message from pilot to medical officer was the number of stretcher, sitting and walking cases on board. Drivers, nursing orderlies and ambulances were waiting by the runway to assist.
After the MOs inspection the next priority was a meal, the men having lived on 鈥楰鈥� rations. If they were seriously ill one of us would accompany the patient to the hospital.

On one particular day it was my task to serve the stretcher and sitting cases, taking the meal on a tray. But oh, those damned kite hawks. I would be watching one hovering overhead and trying to shield the plate of food with one hand, when swoosh 鈥� down would come its mate from nowhere and another meal was lost. Those craft birds knew my colleague was serving the sweet, and it was me with the meat.
That same night I was laying on my charpoy (bed) watching a rat doing a balancing act on the pole I used for a wardrobe in my 鈥榖asha鈥� when news came through of Victory in Europe.

This story continues at A4859814

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