She had witnessed acts of tear-jerking kindness as the wounded warriors in the services section strived to help one another. A soldier on double crutches hobbled the length of the ward to read a newspaper to a young airman with bandages over both eyes. Another with his left arm immobilised in a sling carefully wrote a note to an almost completely deaf and badly wounded lad from one of the artillery regiments, inviting him to play chess. The boys simply refused to give in. Their courage amazed her.
It was little wonder Madge had grown fond of this group of men who had every right to complain about their truly dreadful injuries, but simply got on with life instead.
She hadn’t cried when she ran for her life as the Luftwaffe bombed and machine-gunned the good citizens of Dover. Nor had she shed a tear when the deranged soldier threatened her with the bread knife. Now, excited as she was to go on her great journey, it broke her heart to receive news that she was to walk away from a hospital she had joined as an inexperienced teenager and where she had developed into a compassionate and efficient young nurse.
An overwhelmingly delighted Vera, along with Phyl and the switchboard operator were among the first to congratulate her. Madge received endless good luck messages and so many thank-you notes from her boys on the wards that although she wanted to be going closer to the action, where she believed she could make more of a difference, she truly meant it when she resigned from Stoke Mandeville Hospital ‘with considerable regret’.
5
Rules and Regulations
Madge had just eight days from the arrival of the letter from the Military Department at the India Office before she was due to report to the designated assembly point at 108 Baker Street, London, on Monday 10 July 1944. Eight days in which to complete an all-too-short notice period at Stoke Mandeville Hospital, buy clothes suitable for the heat and humidity of the Indian subcontinent, say a thousand goodbyes and keep a stiff upper lip at the farewell family supper. Madge was so overwhelmed at just how much there was to do that she couldn’t dwell on the butterflies fluttering in her stomach.
Instead she began packing the cabin case and trunk that had been delivered with instructions that the maximum weight allowed would be ‘one and a half hundredweight’. The weight limit amused her because they had been told by the authorities at the India Office that most English clothes would not be suitable so she hadn’t the faintest idea what on earth they expected her to take to use up that enormous allowance. The letter also warned Madge again not to reveal the slightest hint about the ultimate destination when she filled in the luggage tags and that really made her smile because she didn’t know where she would be ending up anyway.
The days passed in a flurry of activity and suddenly the last meal at home was upon her. As Madge would be aboard the troop carrier on her twenty-first birthday, Lily decided to turn the evening from a last supper into an early birthday celebration for her. Madge had been more than pleased to be staying for the last few nights with the family and sleeping in her own comfy bed away from that tiny room at the nurses’ home. In spite of the stringent meat rationing that had been in effect for what felt like a lifetime, Lily worked a minor miracle to produce one of her mouth-watering steak and kidney puddings, but Madge noticed that she seemed distracted and was glad that the evening’s conversation had been about the future and not the sadness of the past few years.
‘With a bit of luck the next time the family is together we will all be back in Dover,’ said Madge.
Doris and Doreen had gone to bed and Lily smiled, almost sadly, as she nodded in agreement. But then her face lit up with a flash of humour. ‘You know, Doris and Doreen were planning to make you an apple-pie bed as a special going-away surprise, but they changed their minds thankfully and that’s why you got those roses in your room instead!’ Lily’s smile faded again. ‘You will watch out for those doodlebugs in London, won’t you, love?’
‘Of course I will, Mum. Stop fretting. I’ll be fine,’ said Madge warmly, placing a reassuring hand on Lily’s arm.
‘I know you will . . . Like you said, we’ll all be together in Dover again before we know it.’
Eventually, after finishing their cups of tea, they said goodnight and made their way up to bed, each more quiet and subdued than normal as they contemplated what the unknown future would hold for their family.
The Baker Street billet, with accommodation over three floors and a spacious dining room, was one of many assembly points throughout London for the 250 VADs travelling to India. Another group of fifty were in a Salvation Army hostel in nearby Bloomsbury. Vera had positively demanded she be allowed to show Madge the sights once she arrived in London after spending the weekend up in Sunderland saying goodbye to her parents, but there was no sign of her.
There was a nice crowd in the room which Madge was to share with five other girls, including another nurse called Phyllis Yearron, a VAD who was a good five or six years older than the rest and let slip that an irreparably damaged relationship was among several reasons why she had volunteered for service in the Burma campaign. The afternoon simply flew by as Madge and Phyllis got to know each other better.
It drew to a close when Madge checked in at reception to see if there was a message from Vera but nothing had come through so she
