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Part I: England to India, 1945

This story is taken from my mother's day-to-day diary during her time in the Voluntary Aid Detachment (VAD). She was born on 11 February 1920, in Tullamore, County Offley, Republic of Ireland (née Browne), and married my father, John Alan Burness, in Ealing, London, on 27 October 1943.

My marching orders

14 May 1945: Five days ago, I received my marching orders! Five days have been spent feverishly packing, unpacking and then re-packing, until at long last all my goods and chattels have found a home.

I arrived here, at ATS (Auxiliary Territorial Service) Transit Camp, London, at 4pm. Forthwith, I was issued with a mug and cutlery, and went down to tea. This is worthy of note since it acted rather like a plunge into the Serpentine on Christmas morning. It simply yelled at one: ‘You’re in the army now!’ We messed (quite literally) with the other ranks, without plates on which to place the crumbs of bread. It was Army Tea — enough said.

Exactly 92 steps to bed

Shortly afterwards, I was issued with bedding, which I learnt rapidly that I had to drag up six floors — 92 steps to be exact — to my room. The latter proved to be quite nice and quite compact including wash basin. Pip Davis (from Australia) shared the room with me. She is rather nice, the don’t-give-a-damn type, and would make two of me.

I seemed to become attached to Felicity mostly, and we went out together that night. Her father came from Tipperary (Ireland), so I guess that seals the knot. My bed is hard, very hard, but I’ll sleep no doubt! If I can’t, I shall count ATS — there are enough of ’em here. And so to bed.

A hectic schedule

15 May: Yesterday was hectic! We spent the morning at the India Office, receiving respirators, tin hats, water bottles, identity papers etc. Thence to British Red Cross Society HQ to see Mrs Young (our C-in-C Transit).

After returning to the depot to deposit our new accessories and having climbed the 97 steps to our rooms, we decided on lunch — but not as supplied in depot.

Spit, polish and hard beds

The afternoon grew more and more warm, until we almost fainted from fatigue in the attempt at finishing our vitae shopping. Tea had to be omitted, despite our desperate need, as parade was held at 5.30pm. Spit and polish was the order of the day since Dame Beryl Oliver arrived to inspect and address us. We were subsequently presented with a load of ‘comforts’.

It was 7.30pm when the ceremony came to an end. We had been standing in rank for two hours. After which, in order to deposit our comforts, we had to climb those wretched stairs again.

Later, I went to Ealing — home — for a couple of hours and arrived back more than fit for bed at 10.30pm. I don’t think I have ever been so tired in my life. We rise at 6.30am, which is really such a pleasure as the beds are so hard. We ache in every muscle.

Supper and a show

6 May: Today has been more pleasant since our time was our own, apart from parades. In the morning, we shopped. Two o’clock parade was excused, so Felicity and I went to see the Variety Show at the Victoria Palace. It was good in parts only. Six o’clock parade was a bit tiresome, but we survived it.

Tonight, Felicity and I, after many unsuccessful attempts at finding some grub, ended up at the Nuffield Club, where we suppered. We also danced there and made the acquaintance of a sergeant of the Intelligence Corps, who hailed from Berlin.

He was a Jew or perhaps just a political enemy of the Nazi Party who, through friends in the British Embassy, had found his way to England. His family were taken to a concentration camp — such as Belsen — where they had all died. He was well educated and extremely interesting. At the moment, he is writing a book on his experiences. Also, he has travelled most of the globe, so perhaps his name, Peter Benedix, is worthy of note.

Meeting Tommy Handley

17 May: Today has been very amusing and exciting. This morning we shopped a little and then decided to charge Broadcasting House, where we were successful in obtaining passes to see ‘ITMA’. We enjoyed the show immensely.

Afterwards we went on the stage and were thrilled not only to speak to Tommy Handley but also get an autographed photo. We also spoke to Jack Train and Charlie Shadwell.

At HQ in the afternoon, a party was given in our honour by the selection committee. Those present included Lady Limerick, Dame Beryl Oliver, Mrs Prentice and Major General Bradley. It was very interesting, but oh! so very prim and proper.

Emlyn Williams brightens the day

Friday, 18 May: Another day has passed, and we are so disappointed as our advance luggage has not gone yet. Bad, very bad, as living in London is so expensive.

Felicity and I saw the Emlyn Williams show that night and enjoyed it. Otherwise, life was not very interesting.

Security silence

Saturday, 19 May: At first, this looked as if it was going to be another day of uncertainty, but during the morning the buzz got round that we were to move off tonight. At 2pm security silence was imposed, and we were confined indoors.

During the afternoon, we packed up and prepared for our night journey by having 40 winks. After a substantial meal and collecting a very generous food pack, we assembled in the main hall with bag and baggage. Two covered wagons arrived to collect us at 10pm, and we waved farewell to our ATS hostesses.

St Pancras was very drab and cold at 11pm, when we boarded the troop train. Everyone was in high spirits and not a little excited. After much backchat, we settled down for the night as best we could.

Applying our war paint

Sunday, 20 May: A night of fitful snoozing passed quite quickly, and we found ourselves nearing Liverpool as dawn broke. We applied our war paint and struggled with our equipment and finally alighted from the train shortly after 7am.

We were taken the fairly short distance to the docks by special buses. We felt deeply for our heavily laden brothers — the tommies — as they marched along. Then, suddenly, we saw our ship. The big moment had come. It is the Queen of Bermuda, but, of course, devoid of its peacetime glamour.

Letter writing in the smoke room

We boarded after much signing of papers and handing in of cameras, and were conducted to our cabins. We are four in a cabin, and mine consists of Miss Bostock (our consul member), Ray Aitken, Cecil Aitcheson and me.

It grieves me that Felicity can not be with us, but nevertheless I am very happy. The rest of the day was boring — frightfully boring! We sat in the officers’ smoke room and wrote letters and talked, mostly. Personnel were coming aboard all day, and we looked in danger of being overcrowded. Everyone retired to bed early.

General orders and boat drill

Monday, 21 May: Seven thirty did not seem too early to arise this morning. We breakfasted at 7.45am, and after tidying our cabins we met in the children’s and women’s room for general orders etc. Then boat drill, which took most of the morning.

Lunch, first sitting, is at noon and dinner at 6pm. We are awfully well fed. The reserved, shy atmosphere prevailed all day, but on the whole it was more enjoyable. We retired at 11pm.

Moving along with a sing-a-long

Tuesday, 22 May: Today, we moved down the Mersey a bit to await the rest of the convoy. An aircraft carrier passed us, much to my joy. No idea what it was! [At this date, Alan, her husband, was on board the carrier Implacable as a pilot with 828 Squadron, which was on active duty in the Pacific.]

Tonight, the air that prevailed was suddenly broken by the sole effort of an RAF officer, who played popular tunes on the smoke-room piano, and so, a sing-a-long began. Felicity, Ray, Cecil and I played Monopoly with some RE or Royal Engineers officers.

And so to bed.

Dorothy Lamour and The Fleet’s In

Wednesday, 23 May: We moved into our place in the convoy and also further out to sea. In the afternoon, we basked in the sunshine on the sun deck.

We had our first cinema show tonight. The programme was The Fleet’s In, starring Dorothy Lamour. After the show, everyone played tombola, at which I won £2 7s 6d (£2.37p)! We are sailing tonight — yippee.

Attack of gastro-enteritis

Thursday, 24 May: Boat drill as usual this morning, but although the sea was beautifully calm, it was bitterly cold.

In the afternoon, I succumbed to gastro-enteritis, which has been playing havoc with our girls. I was seen by the SMO or Senior Medical Officer and put on a concentrated dose of sulphaguanidine. In all, I had 50 tablets in 24 hours.

Being confined to bed was no great hardship under the circumstances. I had plenty of sleep.

On deck and on the mend

Friday, 25 May: Doc arrived at the fantastic hour of 8.15am to see me, and I was pleased to report that my complaint was mending rapidly. My one desire was to get some air, and I eventually persuaded him to allow me up in the afternoon.

It was such a relief to get on deck just before tea. I felt somewhat dizzy at first, but that soon wore off. Later in the evening, we played cards and followed it up with play-reading. Despite my intentions, it was 11pm before I hit the hay.

Sunbathing, partying and dancing

Saturday. 26 May: The morning passed quickly, and, apart from a letter or two, there was nothing to show for it. We spent the afternoon lying on the sun deck, but there was little sun! However, it was pleasantly warm.

Cecil and I were invited to a cocktail party given by the MO. We enjoyed ourselves a lot and met the chief officer, who gave us a lot of gen. This was followed by a flick called The Glass Key, starring Veronica Lake, which everyone agreed was a pretty poor show.

A dance was in progress when we arrived back in the smoke room, and we joined in until 23:00hrs. A breath of cool air on the deck rounded off the day, and we retired at 23:10.

A promising start

Sunday, 27 May: This promised to be a glorious day right from the start. Our cabin became a hive of industry in the morning as there was no ship’s inspection. Felicity and I had gone to Communion at 7.30am, and immediately after breakfast we went along to the barber’s shop to have our hair washed. The shop was really a surprise — very modern, spick and span.

We then did our washing — only stockings etc., as we have a laundry run by the RAOC (Royal Army Ordnance Corps) Unit on board. Needless to say, this is a boon.

Lazing on deck and hymn singing

The afternoon was spent lazing in the sun on deck. The sea was a beautiful blue and the sky almost cloudless. A welcome swell caused an occasional splash of spray to sweep over the deck. I got quite a nice spot of sunburn on my arms. During the afternoon, we watched one ship sail away with two escorts bound for the Cape. I must say I felt envious of them.

The evening was spent in the smoke room, chatting. Community hymn singing was conducted on the sun deck aft. This was followed by a talk on Gibraltar given over the Tannoy. There was the most heavenly moon and starry sky over calm waters as we paced the deck before turning in.

Everyone for themselves

Monday, 28 May: We hopped out of bed this morning at 6am and went on deck to see Gib as we passed. We sailed nearer the African coast than the Rock. The latter was about five miles off the port side and not as impressive as we’d expected.

Low clouds hung over the coastline as dawn broke. Two lights flickered on and off as we came nearer, and, eventually, signals were exchanged between shore and convoy.

The convoy split up. Our escorts and four ships sailed into the harbour. Two others headed off for Italy, and we sailed off on our journey, gradually pulling away from the remnants of the convoy. From now on, it is everyone for themselves.

Sharks or porpoise in the Med

The north African coast was a beautiful sight. A pale, full moon hung over the hills, and a wisp of cloud crossed the highest peak. The white dwellings stood out neatly on the hills, and Suda Bay looked delightfully peaceful tucked away in the valley beneath. Dawn was slowly breaking, and we gradually realised that this magnificence was real and not a painting.

We slipped away from the coastline and once more were surrounded by sea. The blue Med at last, and as we went we saw a school of fish on the starboard side. Could they be sharks!! Or porpoise? Nobody seemed to know. We saw quite a bit of the north African coast during the day. It was quite clear too.

Dancing the night away

The Women’s Services invited the other ranks to a dance in the evening. This was held in the cinema, and the temperature was well over 100 degrees.

There were at least 20 men to each girl. The floor was very overcrowded, and we danced for three hours before a break. However, we all thoroughly enjoyed ourselves.

‘Horse racing’ and Urdu

Tuesday, 29 May: It was very warm today, and we blossomed forth in civilian clothes. In the afternoon, ‘horse racing’ was held on the sun deck. Cecil and I won four races out of six. We were seven shillings (35p) in pocket.

After that, I had my first Urdu lesson. I think I shall know a few words before I reach India. We passed Cape B this afternoon, but apart from the history element it attracted little attention.

Tonight, we went to see the film Sun Valley Serenade, starring Sonja Heine. It was most refreshing.

Within sight of Africa

Wednesday, 30 May: The greater part of the morning was spent learning Urdu and writing letters. We also got cable forms to fill in.

Just about lunchtime, we passed Malta. The island was some distance away, and weather conditions were anything but kind. I was most disappointed about this. We caught glimpses of the north African coast during the evening.

Première of the Bermuda Follies

Thursday, 31 May: As we passed the various points of interest, e.g. Derna, the ex-Desert Rats took great pride in pointing them out to us. The coastline was quite clear.

There was bags of sunshine in the afternoon, and I had a little more tan as a result. The première of the Bermuda Follies was shown to the troops this afternoon, and it seems to be going down well!

Rolling into lunch

Friday, 1 June: Right from the start, it was a glorious day. At 11am, Ray, Cecil, Felicity and I were taken to the chief engineer’s cabin, where we had coffee and biscuits.

We were then taken on a tour of the ship. We all enjoyed this immensely, despite the heat. It was most interesting seeing the machinery that gave us fresh water in the cabins etc. The chief then gave us cocktails, and so we rolled into lunch.

Approaching Port Said

The afternoon consisted of sunbathing, Urdu and PT. The excitement soared and so did the various buzzes as we neared Port Said. Everyone asked the same questions, i.e. ‘How long would we stay and will we get ashore?’

I was extremely lucky in meeting a Lieutenant Wier, who had been two years in the Middle East. He had field glasses, which he kindly let me monopolise, as he pointed out the parts of interest as we came into port. The sun was sinking fast, in fact it was there one minute and had disappeared beyond the horizon the next.

Docking to whistles and cheers

The PS lighthouse was just beginning to function, and all the lights of the town gradually sprang into being as we docked at 8.30pm. Needless to say, the first soldiers we saw were Yanks! The natives lined the shore, and whistled and cheered us.

Night life was just beginning. Dancing was in full swing at the casino and other town clubs. We passed along by the British and American HQs, and all and sundry turned out to see us.

First of all, the Egyptian Police boat came alongside, and one or two officials came aboard. A water barge replaced our fresh-water supply, and some supplies were taken on.

Novelty of neon lighting

The MO, some of the crew and some army officials went ashore, but we had to be content with just looking on. The neon lighting was a novelty, even if it did advertise the things that we could not have.

Community singing by us kept the air alive. Some natives came alongside to sell odds and ends to the lower-deck troops.

With many regrets, we went to bed knowing that unless we arose at the crack of dawn we should not see Port Said for many months. Happy thoughts!

First sight of Suez Canal

Saturday, 2 June: I was on deck at 07:15hrs this morning and saw the Suez Canal for the first time. At first, I was disappointed, but as the day progressed, so we passed many points of interest, and some of the scenery was captivating. It seems that the vegetation is at its best just now. At Ferry Point, particularly, the shrubs were a glorious blaze of colour.

There is a British garrison here, and some officers and men had been stationed there. Noel Weir, having been one of them, took great pride in pointing out all the places of interest during the day. The garrison gave us a rousing cheer, but they, like every other soldier, sailor or airman we passed, insisted on telling us that we were ‘going in the wrong direction’, which was becoming monotonous.

The native villages were most interesting, and I enjoyed a close-up through Noel’s glasses. We saw many camels, bison and the usual domestic animals, but I don’t think I have ever seen anything like the cows — they were just skin and bone.

Feluccas and war ships

All day we passed feluccas — native boats with towering sails. The large ones, usually containing huge rocks, were drawn by three or so natives. I can’t think how they managed to tow such loads in the heat. The general impression given by natives was of a very low mentality.

We passed No.1 General Hospital during the morning. It was a little distance inshore, but with the glasses one could even see patients basking in the sun. Two sisters were swimming in the canal as we passed — very pretty and tanned they looked too!

In the afternoon, we passed on to Ismailia through the lakes in the direction of Suez. In one lake, we saw two Italian warships .permanently anchored there. There was a large aerodrome inshore, and we saw a Sunderland flying boat anchor off its base.

Many of the houses were of French design, and at the entrance to the big lake there was a very inviting French swimming club. We saw lots of war craft, mostly small types, i.e. LCTs etc., moored around the lake.

At anchorage outside Suez

It was terrifically warm in the afternoon — but that is only a taste of things to come! At 6pm, we passed through Suez, and what little I saw of it was not very exciting.

I was due at the first sitting for dinner, and when we went on deck afterwards, we were nearing our anchorage a mile or so outside Suez. Numerous officials came aboard, including two Wren officers, all on duty, and all with much fuss and confusion, since locals were handling their craft.

It really was funny to watch. The locals fought over positions alongside, and there was much gabble and tooting of horns. They also squabbled over cigarettes and coins thrown over the side of the ship by the troops.

Entering the Red Sea

We did not come on deck again until about 10pm. We attended the Bermuda Follies which was very good indeed, considering it was entirely amateur.

It was a heavenly night, marred only by the smell of diesel oil etc., which we were taking on. The sky was a mass of stars, and Suez just a huge cluster of little lights on the starboard side.

And so, tomorrow, we move east from Suez and really feel far from home. We enter the Red Sea and really feel hot.

Hairwashing, sun bathing and a concert

Sunday, 3 June: As usual Sunday morning was devoted to hair washing etc. It was very hot in our cabins, which was useful for drying purposes only. The afternoon was spent basking on the sun deck. The sun was unbearable, and everyone clamoured for shade.

I was annoyed at missing the symphony concert in the cinema as ‘Moonlight Sonata’, ‘Dance of the Hours’ and other popular records were played. In the evening, we all went to see Sensations of 1945, which was quite enjoyable. A stroll on deck rounds off the day.

Mopping off, no make up

Monday, 4 June: Today, we had our own first taste of heat. It far exceeded anything I had ever imagined. The terrific heat is accompanied by a clammy atmosphere, and one just streams perspiration all the while.

All attempts at keeping make up on were abandoned, and one spent one’s time mopping off. Our clothes were changed dozens of times per day, and moisture could be wrung from them. This is supposed to be the worst time of the year in the Red Sea — and I can believe it!

Cooling off in the fridge rooms

PT had to be abandoned, and all my efforts at learning Urdu failed. We had a lecture on tropical medicine on the sun deck at 2pm, which was more of a Turkish bath than anything else. One VAD, named Squires, is seriously ill with heat exhaustion as a result.

Cecil, Felicity and I went over to the galleys afterwards and saw the fridge rooms. They were gloriously cool, but I think we felt worse when we came up again.

In the evening, I was invited to the chief officer’s cocktail party, which I enjoyed. The rest of the evening was spent cooling off on deck.

Turkey and plum pudding at 129ËšF

Tuesday, 5 June: I slept between two towels last night, and the perspiration rolled off. I had very little sleep. This morning, we had a lecture on pay in India, and I got numerous forms to fill in.

The lecture on tropical diseases this afternoon lasted for an hour and a half but was held on the port side, where it was definitely cooler. The temperature in the dining room was 129 ˚F tonight. Perhaps, it was the chef’s idea of a white Xmas, because turkey and plum pudding were served.

Blanket bathing Squires

Wednesday, 6 June: Today, we passed Aden, and the air was just as hot and clammy. I tried to learn Urdu in the morning, but my brain just would not respond. Met the second engineer, who gave me a huge Jaffa orange straight from the fridge! So cool!

In the afternoon, Cecil, Felicity and I had tea with the chief engineer, Mr Mallory — delicious cakes!!

I took a turn of duty this evening, i.e. nursing Squire. I had to blanket bath her, and, as she was on an upper bunk, it was extremely difficult. The cabin temp. was 96 degrees, and, with working, the perspiration rolled off me to such an extent that Cecil had constantly to mop my face.

After this duty, I was invited to the chief officer’s cabin for supper. We had cold turkey and ham with salad, straight from the icebox. I thoroughly enjoyed the evening.

Black-out restrictions and flying fish

Thursday, 7 June: Black-out restrictions are once again in force, and so the heat of our cabin increased last night — consequently had little sleep.

Had tea and cocktails with the chief officer. Heard that we had been in contact with a submarine and so will not reach India until Sunday.

Entire party sat on deck in the evening drinking lemonade and watching the flying fish. Felicity and I spent an awful hour in the baggage room packing today. Also we had TT inoculations.

Deck races, tea and cocktails

Friday, 8 June: Nothing interesting happened today. In the afternoon, we had deck races — the Bermuda Stakes. I backed two winners and was jockey for Captain Crutchley in two races. Won one that brought him in £4 12s 6d (£4.63p). Had tea on deck with Capt. Mudd.

Cocktails in the chief’s cabin with Bill (FANYs) and David (Lt RNVR). Do you have a glossary that explains terms such as this?] After dinner the party moved up to the boat deck, where we spent a gloriously cool evening.

Lack of party spirit

Saturday, 9 June: Slept much better last night. There are numerous rumours floating around about when we shall arrive in Bombay.

Had iced coffee with chief in the morning. Lazed on deck until tea-time — had tea with chief and, also, cocktails before dinner.

This evening was spent with Cecil, David and Felicity on deck. Didn’t enjoy it really as it may be our last night on board, and nobody seemed to feel the party spirit except me.

Sailing into Bombay

Sunday, 10 June: At 9.30 this morning we sailed into Bombay. I stood on the deck and had a wonderful view. Mike (Maj. Graham), who has been in India for nine years, was with me and pointed out the Gateway of India — which looks a little like Marble Arch — and also the Taj Hotel, which looked splendid.

There were plenty of ships in the harbour, including the yacht that Barbara Hutton sold to the navy for one dollar. We eventually docked at 10am with much fuss and bother as usual. Numerous officials came aboard, and our sick were taken off by ambulance.

The rest of the morning was spent in exchanging money, filling in forms and hanging over the deck rail. To me, India looks quite interesting, and I am sure its people will never cease to fascinate me.

Meeting a wealthy Bombay merchant

We are not disembarking until tomorrow, and we are not being allowed ashore. Some of the men are going today. All drafts had mail except the VADs, and are we choked.

I had tea with chief and later cocktails, where I met one of Bombay’s richest shipping merchants, who always comes to see the chief and the captain. He wore the two most magnificent rings I have ever seen. As we heard today that we were going straight to Poona tomorrow, I asked his views on it, and I hope he is right.

The chief gave a party in the evening, and at it I met Lieutenant Commander Taylor (Tiny!), who is from the shore establishment. He came aboard as the ship docked. At 1am, there was a tea party on the sun-deck cabins and finally got to bed at 1.30am.

Sad farewells

Monday, 11 June: Reveille for the troops sounded at 2.30am, so we had one hour’s sleep. We arose at 5am and got our last packing done. Breakfasted at 7am and prepared to disembark at 8.30am.

I never felt so much like weeping for many moons. We said farewell to all our friends and marched ashore at last. Two hospital trains were pulled into the dock siding and waiting to take the QAs [Queen Alexandra’s Royal Naval Nursing Service] and VADs off to Poona.

While we were waiting for it to leave at 10.30 am, we went to a nearby café and had drinks and weighed ourselves. I found I had nearly lost a stone! Lots of our friends disembarked soon afterwards, and they came to wave us off.

Part II: India

Monday, 11 June: The train left Bombay at 10.30am and was most comfortable. We each had an upholstered bunk with plenty of pillows, which we did appreciate after so little sleep last night.

Tea was served by the medical orderlies on board, and we had baskets of pineapples and bananas sent us by the St John Ambulance Brigade (SJAB), Bombay, which thrilled us no end.

The journey was very interesting. We sat gazing at the parched native countryside, but as the train climbed its way up into the hills, there was plenty of vegetation and some pretty flowering shrubs.

Arrival in Poona

Somewhat exhausted, we arrived at Poona at 5pm feeling hot and sticky. Trucks were waiting and took us to 126 IBGH. This we found to resemble a scattered army camp, consisting of stone dormitory-like houses. Each housed about 30 people. We shared B.16 with QAs, which complicated matters a bit at times.

We had tea, which was more than welcome, at 6pm, after which we found our luggage and had bearers take it to our respective beds. There is absolutely no wardrobe or drawer space left for VADs, so we are forced to live in suitcases a while longer.

After dinner, at about 8.30pm, we prepared to lay our weary bones to rest. There were all sorts of animal life crawling about, but we eventually fell into a peaceful sleep, feeling comparatively safe under our mossie nets.

Weird nocturnal occurrences

Tuesday, 12 June: This morning brought news of weird happenings in the dead of night. Bostock found a black hand under her pillow, and her clock is missing.

We had a welcome speech from the Brigadier I/C Hosp., followed by a health talk given by the SMO (Senior Medical Officer) in the morning.

Still feeling a bit fed up with life, Ray, Cecil, Felicity and I went to Poona on a shopping expedition. We bought white sandals with a bag to match and an evening frock.

In the evening, a party of us went to the dance given by the hospital’s military police and thoroughly enjoyed ourselves. We retired to bed shortly after midnight.

Cheered by our first mail

Wednesday, 13 June: Had a security talk this morning. Miss Corsair, our liaison officer, arrived this evening, and we had our first mail. It brought me nine letters, which have changed my outlook on life very considerably.

In the evening, we went to a dance at one of the clubs in Poona. The officers of the company had organised it for the men just back from Burma. We enjoyed ourselves.

Possible joint posting

Thursday, 14 June: Today, we had TAB all over again. It had no effect on me this time either, but several of our girls are not feeling so good.

We had individual interviews with Miss Corsair. She seemed quite pleased with my past history. It seems highly probable that Felicity and I will be posted together.

This evening, we went to the sergeants’ mess (sappers and miners, Kirkee) and had quite an enjoyable time.

Lucky break

Friday, 15 June: Went on duty in MI room. We had volunteered and were seen by matron this morning. As usual, I struck lucky in getting a soft job. Horsby is my opposite number, and we do not go on duty until 8.45am. (Those on ward duty go on at 8am.)

There is very little to do in the MI room, but we set about spring-cleaning it. The general organisation is hopeless. There is a Lieutenant Corporal in charge, an ex-prisoner (Italian), and an Indian sweeper, which, together with the MO or medical officer (Lieutenant Leis), comprises the staff.

Language difficulties

We do a sort out of the patients’ department — our patients being either general staff or locals employed in the hospital. It is very often very difficult to diagnose the ailments of the latter owing to the language difficulties.

This evening, I was supposed to go to a party at the Sussex Regiment’s sergeants’ mess, but, just as we were about to leave, Jumbo (Major Hall) and Ian (Captain Robertson) arrived up from Kalyan. Felicity and I were most surprised, but it was good to see a friendly face from the ship again. We all went out to dinner at Nanking restaurant.

Success at the races

Saturday, 16 June: We were all vaccinated once more this morning. Jumbo fetched me after lunch, and we went to the races — the Kirkee Stakes, held at Poona — and we had a very successful afternoon.

In the evening, we had dinner at the Poona Hotel and then went across to the Poona Club to dance. We met Pip, Felicity, Ron and many others from the ship, and a happy time was had by all.

Bags of joy at posting

Sunday, 17 June: The morning brought quite a few patients into our dept, and I was kept quite busy.

Had another half day today and went with Jumbo to the Lady Colville Club for woman of the services, where we lazed in the lap of luxury all afternoon and ended with tea. Ian and co. joined us later. In the evening, we all went to the Poona Club.

Felicity and I learned today that we are being posted to Entally together — bags of joy all round.

Less work and more play

Sunday, 24 June: It has been a week since I last scrawled herein, and that week seems to have passed swiftly. As far as work was concerned, I seem to have done little, and what I did manage was done in the mornings!

By way of a change, I have not been dancing lately. Life has mainly consisted of dinner parties, and one night I went to see Greer Garson in Mrs Parkington at one of the local cinemas. The governor of Bombay attended the performance, and there was bags of trumpet tooting and saluting.

Yesterday evening, Ana invited me to a dinner party at the EWI given by General Iverliss. All his high staff officials were present. One major was Irish, so I didn’t feel too lost. I quite enjoyed the evening.

Today Major Graham, who taught me Urdu on board the ship, came to see me. He is stationed about 15 miles from Poona. We had dinner at the Turf Club this evening, which was most enjoyable. And so another week has ended.

Quite a week

Sunday, 1 July: This week was quite interesting, so I’ll relate at length.

Monday — More inoculations and vaccinations. Had the day off in view of our posting on Wednesday. We shopped mainly for food for our trip. Did a spot of charpoy bashing in the afternoon. Felicity and I went to the farewell party in our honour at the OT (occupational therapy) centre.

Tuesday — In the morning, I finished making my S. bag at the OT centre — did most of Felicity’s too! In the afternoon, we all prepared for the ball at Government House.

No coach and magic wand

The edge was taken off our excitement by the arrival of two army lorries to fetch us. No coach and magic wand for Cinderella!! On arrival, we put the finishing touches to our hair and faces, and went downstairs to the magnificent ballroom complete with chandeliers and panel mirrors.

From the ballroom, thro’ magnificent doors bearing the coat of arms, one passed on to a terrace, where lots of tables and chairs were arranged, and one could sit overlooking the moonlit gardens.

Just before his Excellency arrived, we formed up on the left of the doors leading to the terrace and the officers of the Sussex, Gloucester, SW Border and Signals regiments formed up on the right. When His Ex. entered, and the King was played, we were formally presented.

It was a most enjoyable evening, but midnight soon arrived. Afterwards, some of the officers invited us to a party at their mess, and off we went by jeep. Eventually, we arrived home at 2.30am. As we had to finish our packing and be at breakfast at 5pm, we decided it was not worth going to bed.

Aboard the Bombay Mail

Wednesday — We left 126 IBGH at 6am and arrived bag and baggage at Poona station 15 minutes later. We eventually boarded the Bombay Mail, which took us as far as Kalyan, where we changed on to the Forces Special to Calcutta.

Needless to say we were very sleepy, but we — Felicity and I — shared a four-bunk compartment with two QAs (also going to Calcutta) and two lieutenant colonels as far as the Dulallah homeward-bound transit camp. It was in the afternoon, when they left us, that we had our first nap.

As a matter of fact, we slept most of the next two days, apart from wayside stops, where we had meals laid on for the entire mass of officers. We saw some very colourful birds on the journey and also saw coconuts growing.

Calcutta at last

Friday — We should have awakened to find ourselves in Calcutta this morning. In fact we were some 150 miles away — owing to an engine being derailed on the line ahead of us — and had to make a detour.

At 4pm we arrived at Hourah Station, Calcutta. It was just as filthy as any other station, with natives strewn all over the place. We had to sit on our luggage in their midst for one solid hour before the ambulance arrived to convey us to the hospital.

First impressions: Calcutta

16 July 1945: My first impressions of Calcutta were rather mixed. Besides having to pass through some of the worst areas, the inside of an ambulance is not the best place from which to view any city.

The hospital — Entally — was a pleasant surprise to us. We drove in through the bold iron gates, on either side of which extended high stone walls that encompass the entire hospital. We were taken past the main hospital buildings, which looked very imposing and consisted of white stone buildings with green shutters, rather on French lines — not surprising since it was originally a convent.

Watching fireflies on the veranda

Finally, we arrived at our mess. This indeed is very pleasant. It is a two-storey building with upper balcony, and my room is over the dining room. The floors are highly polished stone.

Matron takes a keen interest in the garden, and just now, with the rain, it is at its best. The lawns are beautifully green. In fact, apart from a few tropical palm trees mixed in with other trees, and of course the everlasting heat, with the roses in bloom, hollyhocks and gladioli one could easily imagine it was England. There’s the same noisy rooks, chattering sparrows, planes overhead and the railway near by.

What I most like doing is sitting in the cool of the evening (after a most satisfying dinner) on the veranda — watching the fireflies, flit to and fro in the dark like lighted matches, while the crickets sing and the little lizards dart around catching flies.

From the BOR ward…

Monday, 17 July: Time has passed fairly quickly since our arrival. Staff change daily as most people either seem to be due for repat. or their husbands are. Yes, I admit I am most envious.

At first, I was placed on the BOR ward, and were the boys pleased to see someone just out from Blighty. Needless to say, I got a terrific ragging about getting my knees brown etc. They were a grand lot, really, but having discovered all there is to know about dysentery and malaria, I now find myself on an Indian surgical ward.

…To Indian surgical

This in itself is an experience. It is very amusing at times when I try my Urdu on the patients, and they their little knowledge of English on me. Usually they win.

They are not really objectionable to nurse, but they are very childish, with no desire to help their own recovery. They take a great delight in asking for medicine and kicking up such a row if they don’t get it. If one patient gets an injection, the rest of the ward yells for one also.

Succumbing to dengue

Monday, 24 July: During the past week, I succumbed to dengue and bed, and remained there, nursed by my bearer, for almost a week. However, I have now recovered and am doing Home Sister duty. This is a thankless job, and one that lasts from 7.30am to 9pm. Whether you are on or off, somebody manages to find a job for you.

It is, however, a good means by which to acquire Urdu, since it’s the only way to cope with bearers and sweepers. Actually, the whole thing is very wearing, but I am interested in the housekeeping side. A big factor is that nobody interferes!!

Put in isolation

Monday, 31 July: I was but a few days Home Sister before I found myself back in bed again. Undiagnosed and running a temperature of 104.8 °F, I was sent off to 21st BGH, where I now repose in the officers’ medical ward. I must admit I felt at death’s door for a few days, but that is wearing off now.

The general opinion seems to be that I’ve got typhoid, and so I’m isolated! Actually the folks are very kind, but the general standard of nursing isn’t very good.

My temperature persists

Monday, 7 August: Once again, I am back in the general ward, which is somewhat less boring. Have had lots of visitors, including Francis, which was a grand surprise. She is in Calcutta for a few days and very kindly finds time to visit me each day.

Francis knows a patient in the next ward, a very nice Irish girl, Moira Gorman, who comes along to see me too. My temperature still persists, and nobody seems to know what is the matter, which is typical of the army.

Convalescing by VJ night

Monday, 14 August: Moira and I have become firm friends. We finally waved goodbye to Harrington Street and travelled up to Lebong a week ago.

We arrived on VJ night, and, although very tired, we unpacked our evening dresses and joined in the celebrations at the convalescent depot. These were rather hectic, especially for Moira and me, as we were the only two girls under 30. There were two others over 40 — and at least 80 officers!

Journey into the clouds

To revert back awhile, I must make a note of the journey up here, though I’m sure it will always remain a beautiful memory. We travelled overnight from Calcutta to Siliguri, which, being trans' Bengal, meant we did not miss much in scenery.

Siliguri being at the foot of the hills, we changed into the tiny train that was to transport us somewhat miraculously, if not hair-raisingly, to Guam, 6,500ft higher. The train carried along a little track that ran along the mountainside on a ledge, as it were, with only a foot or two between us and the ever increasing depths below.

We passed the most beautiful gorges and waterfalls one could imagine, climbing up and up above the clouds until we felt sure we could not possibly climb further, but we went on and on.

Highest station in the world

Quite speechless from the magnificence of the scenery, we reached Guam in the afternoon. This is the highest railway station in the world and quite fascinating. From here, we climbed down 500ft to Darjeeling by the same little train, arriving at about 4pm.

We were met by the CO and Mrs Harley, whom we later discovered to be our hostess, and taken by ambulance down to Lehong.

A joy after Calcutta

Lehong is a charming little spot, consisting only of the convalescent depot, the IBGH, a racecourse and a village. The village, if one could call it such, consists of half-a-dozen bazaar-type houses.

The convalescent depot is nothing like what I imagined — a thousand times better in fact. It consists of a number of bungalows scattered on the hillside, each shared by about ten officers. Some of these are quite a distance from the mess, which is a communal bungalow in a fairly central position.

One bungalow is set aside for the female element, and in this Moira and I share a room. The mess consists of a large dining room, table-tennis room, bar and two lounges. There is an excellent radiogram and piano. A small room is set aside for the bridge fiends.

Log fires are the order of the day, both in our rooms and mess. It is such a joy to get away into the cool atmosphere after Calcutta.

VJ celebrations and parties

Monday, 21 August: My first week of convalescence at Lehong has passed very quickly indeed. The main feature of the seven days is the continued VJ celebrations. Although one is normally compelled to take things very quietly here for the first two weeks, the CO did permit Moira and me to join the parties at the Planters’ Club and the Gymkhana Club.

As far as I was concerned, this was in order, but I regret to say it resulted in me having to insist on putting Moira into bed and calling the MO along to see her. She was removed to the Darjeeling nursing home, and after 24 hours she became very ill indeed.

Full of the joys of spring

The climate up here, despite the continuous drizzle, has filled me with the joys of spring. I’m bounding with energy and spend most of my time riding the little ponies or climbing up to Darjeeling. I simply love the Gurkha people. They have a charm and friendship that blends with the countryside.

This indeed is the home of tea. One can pick the leaves while walking along the road. The bushes are planted in terraces along the mountainside in a wonderfully neat method. Darjeeling is a charming little town, so beautifully clean after Calcutta. All the world seems to roam through the streets doing shopping on horseback.

Bouncing with vim and vigour

Monday, 27 August: The past week has seen a change for the worst in Moira, and the specialist has given her no more than three months to live. I visit her daily and endeavour to keep her spirits up. It seems wrong that, thinking so much of Moira, I should be bouncing more and more with vim and vigour, but that, I suppose, is life!

I’ve thoroughly enjoyed a few games of hockey this week with the men — much to their amazement. There are still numerous parties in Darjeeling, and I have visited the cinema twice.

Locked in another world

The long-awaited view of Kinchinjunga was ours to behold this week. I awoke one glorious, sunny morning to find before me the most magnificent picture that I could possibly imagine. The golden sunshine on the snow-covered mountains covered the panorama as far as the eye could see. We were looking down on the clouds that blocked out all sight of land beneath us, and we felt we were in another world.

Never had I imagined anything so beautiful that neither artist nor camera could reproduce. This, however, fades from view after about 9am, usually as the clouds gather, and, once again, we are enveloped in mist.

Strangely enough, one gets so used to rain up here that never is it allowed to interfere with pleasure or routine.

Clouds of butterflies in the Sikim valley

Monday, 3 September: This week I should return to Calcutta, but the CO has decided that I should remain another week or two on Moira’s account. She looks forward to my visits so much, and I do manage to cheer her up a bit. She is somewhat better this week, and I do hope the progress continues.

One of the most pleasant afternoons this week was spent in the Sikim valley. Our party left on horseback at 10am and rode down the mountains through the tea gardens to the valley. It grew warmer and warmer as we went until we were quite scorched by the sunshine.

The Sikim valley was a beautiful spot. I was particularly taken by the magnificent butterflies — not by the odd specimen, but by the literally clouds of the most beautiful colours imaginable. They just have to be seen to be believed.

Faradism and massage, scorpions and snakes

The mess has changed beyond recognition. The constant laughter and wisecracking that prevailed in my first two weeks has disappeared. We all miss Peg-leg and Fortune, the two RAF types with whom there was never a dull moment. Also, Navy, too, has gone, and one or two of the old gang have retreated to hospital again.

Each morning I verify my existence by giving faradism and massage to David Ensor and generally assist Doc. in the MI room.

At one time it seemed that I would never become accustomed to jackals screaming on my veranda at night or believe that the din created by the beetles and bullfrogs would cease to keep me awake, but now I hardly notice them. One gets the weirdest animals in one’s bedroom here, and a constant watch has to kept for snakes, scorpions and what have you.

Calcutta calling

Monday, 10 September: All good things must come to an end, and so this week I’m back to earth with thoughts of going down. Any excuse is better than none for a party up here, and at least three materialise in Darjeeling each week.

Roller skating too has become the rage, and I’m somewhat black and blue. Riding still is my main occupation, and so I ride up to see Moira each day. She is still progressing favourably, which is a good thing, and so I shall be going down on Thursday.

Actually, Entally (Calcutta) have signalled to find out where I’ve got to, so perhaps I’d better get back to work.

Back to monsoon and some good news

Monday, 17 September: Back to the sticky heat of Calcutta with the monsoon still in full swing — so much so that I’m expecting to find myself floating down the corridor when I awake each morning.

I arrived back to find the astounding news that Alan is home in England, and within half an hour of my arrival here I applied to return home. It’s expecting rather much of the army, but a little optimism won’t harm! Alan’s operations were wound down in mid-August, and he returned from Australia via Colombo, Karachi, Basra, Cairo, Malta and finally to Lynham.

A rude awakening

Work does not go down too well after such a life of leisure and pleasure, but there is plenty to keep me occupied on my Indian surgical ward. Calcutta is just as crowded as ever — there is no joy in shopping at all.

I have applied for membership of the Saturday Club, which is the only completely English club in the city. There is dancing every night, and it possesses a very good library, an excellent swimming pool and hard tennis courts. Matron recommended it to me, and it certainly looks good.

Moira progresses, and so do I

Monday, 24 September: Work has been plentiful this week, and we seem to have had a rush of accident cases. Felicity has wangled her posting and has gone off to Rauchi to join her unit, which will be going ‘Forward’ soon. Her cousin is going with her, and so she seems to be quite happy.

I’ve been accepted as an honorary member of the Seap and have enjoyed a dinner dance there this week. News from Moira appears to be good, and it certainly is a good sign that she’s started writing letters again.

Awaiting news of my release

Monday, 1 October: I’m patiently awaiting for news of my release. Matron is back from leave, and she can see no reason for my being refused repat. It is a cheering thought.

Night duty seems to be my fate on Friday! We only do two weeks out here instead of four. I don’t think I shall mind very much as I should think it will be much cooler than working by day.

Mail is very bad just now. I have not had any since 15 September. It is strange that some gets through all right — still I keep hoping.

Caring for the British wing

Monday, 7 October: Night duty is going down very well really. I’ve got the entire British wing to look after, which consists of three medical wards (one of which contains 70 beds, while the other two have about 40).

Isolation also comes under this wing, and here I have a BOR dangerously ill with cholera. That keeps me busy most of the night. Actually, I think he will pull through quite easily, tho’ I wonder if it will be worth it, as he is under close arrest for murder.

The British prisoners’ ward is also under my keeping, and I’m kept busy trying to see that the guards do not sleep! Two of my four medical orderlies hail from Newcastle, and I can hardly understand a word they say. However, they are good lads.

Suspected smallpox

Monday, 14 October: I’m now on my last week of night duty. I really think I shall be sorry to finish. All my charges are progressing favourably. Unfortunately, a suspected smallpox case has arrived now, so I hope there won’t be any more.

Owing to night duty, much to my sorrow I had to refuse an invitation to General Stuart’s cocktail party. Such is life!

Still no mail from home. I must say I have not found as much time for writing letters on night duty as I had hoped.

A patient escapes, but I do not

Monday, 21 October: My night duty has ended, but not without a spot of excitement. My cholera patient escaped via the ward window and over the hospital wall on Monday night.

Fortunately, as there was a guard on duty, none of the medical folks can be held responsible. I was busy in the next ward when it happened, but I’ve had to attend a court, be sworn in and make a statement on the incident.

The reply to my release has arrived with an unfavourable answer. This has proved a terrific disappointment to me. Matron is putting it through again, however, with a personal recommendation.

I’ve had two days off in lieu of night duty and one for the month, and I spent most of the time relaxing at the Saturday club. I’ve been too fed up to do much else.

Rumour that hospital will close

Monday, 27 October: Felicity has passed through Calcutta on her way to Singapore. She looks very fit. Some of the other girls who came out with us are with her, so we had a little reunion.

Moira is much better and is expected to come to Calcutta at the end of the month en route for Ranchi Chest Hospital. Nothing very exciting has happened.

I’m back on duty in the Indian surgical ward, and there is plenty of work. Rumour has it that the hospital closes on 18 November, at least that is the last date for receiving patients. I wonder where we shall all be posted to then!

A social whirl

Monday, 3 November: Social life is in full swing here now. The weather has cooled a little, and the racing season has commenced. The Saturday Club is very gay these days, and I dance there most evenings now.

Moira has arrived back and is about eight miles out of Calcutta at the Woman’s [sic] Services Hospital at Barakoti. I’ve been along to see her, and she looks very well. She is anxiously awaiting to hear her fate.

Postings are the order of the day here, and the staff are slowly depleting in numbers. Work is slightly more hectic again. The mail situation has improved greatly, tho’ it is by no means perfect.

Generally confined

Monday, 10 November: It seems that dozens of QAs and VADs are getting their release here, but still no news of mine. The PM (principal matron) told matron to tell me not to worry as she felt sure I would get it, so I must be patient a little longer.

Some excitement and a lot of inconvenience has been caused this week by the city’s riots. We have several INA [Indian National Army] sympathisers in the ward, and they have been airing their views in no uncertain manner. Our ambulances have all been victims of brick throwing etc.

Needless to say we are all confined indoors, which isn’t so good. However, nobody feels like being murdered for fun!

With difficulty, the staff who were posted were conveyed from the hospital, and now we are a fairly small family. Each day we wonder who will be the next to be posted and secretly hope it won’t be our own turn — all very unsettling.

Rallying after a second refusal

Monday, 17 November: Despite the P. matron’s words of hope, a second refusal has arrived from GHQ regarding my release. Were it not for the comfort and efforts of matron and the colonel, I think I would not have tried again — my spirits were much too low for that. But they have insisted on trying a third time and have sent up a special appeal stating compassionate grounds.

I hold little hope of this succeeding really. I’ve been out to see the APM (assistant principal matron) at eastern HQ, and she thinks that my compassionate grounds are strong enough to melt Delhi, and therefore I stand a 99-per-cent chance. I wish I could think so.

I don’t think I’m going to be posted until the last moment, and matron has hinted that I’m going to Barrackpore. Don’t know whether I’m pleased or not!! However, I’ve felt a little more cheerful as a result, and so now that the Confined to Barracks order has been lifted, I’ve been out dancing again.

Kicking my heels

Monday, 24 November: We have stopped admitting patients since the 18th and are gradually evacuating those now with us to other hospitals. My ward has closed, and I’m roaming around with nothing particular to do except to be matron’s stooge!

Time weighs very heavily these days, not having anything much to do and having too much time to brood over my troubles. Packing up the hospital is a most depressing occupation.

Plenty of off duty and dancing

Monday, 1 December: Matron has been so keen on getting things packed up this week that she has hardly left us a thing to eat, cook on or sleep on. We are reduced to six in the mess now. My main occupation has been shopping and doing odd jobs for matron. Have had plenty of off duty and so plenty of time for dancing.

Moira has moved off to Ranchi with a much lighter heart as it now appears that she has not got TB, and so I should think she will be home very soon. I went along to Howrah Station to wave her off on the ambulance train.

Red-letter day

Sunday, 6 December: A red-letter day — the news of my long-awaited release has come through. There has been bags of joy in the place today, matron being just as thrilled as I am.

Needless to say, I don’t know whether I’m coming or going, but I’ve spent most of the day wangling a passage, and, thanks to General Stuart, I leave for Karachi and Blighty, by air, tomorrow!

This really has been the most hectic 24 hours of my life.

Last-minute everything

Monday, 7 December: Today has been a mad rush of last-minute shopping, packing, reporting to collect my ticket and being weighed-in by BOAC.

I spent my last evening with as many friends as I could gather together at the Saturday Club, where we dined and danced. As the plane takes off at the crack of dawn, it was not worth going to bed, and so a party was held at the airport sick quarters.

Flying over India

Tuesday, 8 December: At dawn this am, our Sunderland took off from the Hooghly. I must admit that I was too excited (and tired after an all-night party!) to feel sorry at leaving Calcutta. It was a grand experience crossing India by air, especially with the awful memory of that train journey across it.

We landed on a most beautiful lake half-way across for refuelling. It seemed more like an Italian lake than part of India. We had lunch at the BOAC hotel on the shore. Later, shortly after tea-time, we glided down at Karachi, my first thought being how much more pleasant is the climate than Calcutta’s.

Karachi itself is a grand city. It seems so clean. We are installed in a very nice hotel but horrified to find that we may be here for a week before we get a plane to the UK — such an anti-climax for my elated spirits.

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