Eventually he asked, ‘So, Nurse Graves, do you have experience of nursing abroad?’
Madge, smiling, replied, ‘Not yet, but I’m keeping my fingers crossed!’
Yet still the questions came. Would she be prepared to nurse Indian soldiers? What were the early symptoms of gangrene? What was the cause of and treatment for malaria and had she read about the sterilisation of medical equipment in field-hospital conditions? Had she any experience in the use of the new wonder drug, penicillin?
After four hours of intense questioning, another particularly stern interviewer with a big, bushy moustache nodded to Madge that she could return to the waiting room. Phyl and Vera were already there, along with three other unknown nurses, who were all sitting next to one another on the hard wooden chairs looking quite stunned. Madge gave Phyl and Vera a nod as she sat down. The whole room was silent as the interviewees reflected on the past few hours. A secretary brought in tea and biscuits as they waited to hear what their fate would be.
As Madge nibbled on a bit of shortbread, she began to wonder if she was doing the right thing after all. It dawned on her all of a sudden that if she was successful, she’d soon be leaving England for the first time, moving away from her family. She’d already let Stoke Mandeville know that she was applying, and in addition had promised her sisters Doris and Doreen her winter clothes when she left because she had the strangest of feelings that she would not be returning to England any time soon, if at all. She was too young to really believe that she might die, but still she vowed to keep a diary of her adventures abroad for her sisters so they would have something to remember her by if she didn’t make it back.
Madge thought the interview had gone well, but as the minutes turned to an hour she started to fret. At last the door swung open and every nurse in the room sat bolt upright as a woman with immaculately coiffed hair, scarlet lipstick and a sharply pressed St John Ambulance Brigade uniform walked in. Madge gave an audible gasp as she realised it was Lady Mountbatten! She had seen photographs of her in magazines but she was far more striking in person. The nurses watched, starstruck, as Lady Mountbatten took her place at the imposing desk, her pristine white gloves placed neatly alongside a leather-embossed folder. The regulation St John Ambulance black-and-white hat was worn at a jaunty angle and the white epaulettes sewn to her jacket’s shoulders stood in vivid contrast to the immaculately tailored black uniform. She smiled kindly at the young nurses in front of her.
There was a twinkle in her eyes as the society beauty hesitated for a moment, almost as if she was gently teasing them, but then announced, ‘Congratulations, ladies, you’ve all passed the selection test.’ Vera had her hand in front of her face to try and stifle the tears of joy. Phyl simply beamed from ear to ear and Madge was elated – could this be real? But her thoughts were interrupted by Lady Mountbatten, who fixed them each with a serious face and announced rather sternly, ‘Be sure to ask yourself, ladies, if you will be able to stand the heat.’ Madge was somewhat puzzled. She hadn’t been north of Watford, let alone overseas, so she couldn’t begin to imagine what the heat would be like in the Far East. On a good day in Dover, where she had lived until starting work at Stoke Mandeville, it was possible to see Calais, but a long journey was a bus ride to Folkestone and the sun was never more than warm.
Lady Mountbatten shook hands with each of the girls and they were escorted down a level and along the corridor to the Military Department of the India Office to sign a set of papers. An unsmiling official handed Vera her documents and then gave Phyl hers. Madge looked at him expectantly but he just peered over his circular, black-rimmed glasses and said without a hint of apology, ‘You are not legally eligible for service overseas because you have yet to reach the age of twenty-one. Permission is refused.’
‘But . . . But . . .’ Madge stammered as her stomach dropped.
‘I’m afraid that’s final, miss,’ the official said, before pointedly turning back to his filing.
‘Oh, that’s too bad, Madge,’ Vera said sympathetically, while Phyl gave her arm a squeeze. Madge willed herself not to cry.
As they made their way back to Stoke Mandeville she gave the matter some thought. On the one hand, when Mountbatten’s plea was issued, life at Stoke Mandeville Hospital had been very quiet and that had been a major factor in her decision to volunteer for service overseas. On the other hand, there had been huge troop movements for weeks. Nurses and doctors alike were muttering that the ‘big one’ was coming and that they needed to be ready. Perhaps, Madge thought, she’d be able to help just as much at Stoke Mandeville. And at least that way she’d be able to stay close to her family.
All the same, during dinner, Madge struggled to keep a smile on her face, and that night as she snuggled into bed she had to try her hardest to convince herself that staying in Britain was the best thing after all.
After a sleepless night, a somewhat dispirited Madge made the short walk from the nurses’ home to the hospital to begin her 8 a.m. shift. Even on that five-minute stroll numerous people asked how the interview had gone. She had a late lunch with her two friends who were understandably buzzing about the exciting, brave new world that beckoned. Phyl said she had looked at an atlas and couldn’t believe just how huge India was.
‘It’s such a shame you’re not coming with us,’ she
