‘Are you OK?’ Phyl asked her.
‘I’m fine. Are you?’
‘I’m OK. But I can’t seem to get out.’
Just then Basil appeared and somehow or other pulled both girls free. Madge realised then that there was a nasty smell of petrol and she was far from impressed when she looked over and saw that Jim was lighting a cigarette.
‘You surely aren’t intending to smoke when there’s such a strong smell of petrol, are you?’
‘That’s definitely not wise, sir,’ Basil said, then, turning to the girls, he asked, ‘Are either of you hurt?’
‘No, we’re both fine – just a few bruises,’ Madge answered.
‘Jim got a bit of a bump when his head hit the windscreen,’ Basil said, ‘but it was a minor miracle that we all escaped in one piece.’
They set off walking towards Chittagong but had not gone far when they were rescued by two RMP sergeants on a routine patrol. As soon as they heard about the crash, the sergeants said they would organise to have the damage to the vehicle taken care of, after which it would be returned. They then offered to take everyone back to their billets. A chorus of grateful thanks was their reward.
When Madge, who had finally got to bed in the wee small hours, explained over breakfast what had happened the night before, Vera said, ‘You are so very lucky. That’s another of your nine lives gone.’
Sister Blossom, who had been let in on the secret that there was a new man in Madge’s life, could hardly wait a few days later to hand her the single item of mail addressed to ‘Miss M. L. Graves’. Madge saw that the envelope had ‘HQ Movements, Chittagong Area’ on the back but with Sister Blossom hovering on one side of the table and Vera snooping on the other she swiftly slipped it into her bag. Vera, however, couldn’t bear the suspense.
‘According to mess rules all invitations are supposed to be put on the noticeboard but if you show us what it is, we promise not to tell a soul about the new love in your life,’ she said.
Madge just snorted at the very thought of Vera keeping a secret, but relented when they pleaded and told her she was ‘just being a meany and a killjoy’. With Vera and Sister Blossom on tenterhooks she delved into her bag, lifted out the embossed envelope and feigned indecision about whether or not she would open it.
‘It’s from HQ Movements, Chittagong Area, and it says this information is not for the attention of nosy parkers,’ joked Madge, who added that the invitation was from the Movements officers requesting the pleasure of the company of Miss Graves at a dance to be held at their mess. ‘Transport will be arranged on request.’
‘Sounds serious to me,’ said Vera as she leaned over to take the invitation to read for herself before handing it to Sister Blossom.
‘I’m thrilled that everything is pointing to a very happy Christmas for my favourite VAD,’ Sister Blossom smiled. But she was nowhere near as clearly delighted as Madge.
‘Calm down, young lady. You look like the cat that got the cream,’ said Vera.
Madge had to keep her mind on the job, though, and when she reported for her morning shift she was invited by Matron Ferguson to take part in a briefing about a problem that was beginning to get out of hand. There were several other nurses in attendance. Madge looked around nervously.
‘A month previously Lieutenant Colonel Whittaker expressed concern at the alarming increase in numbers of Indian troops arriving at 56 IGH with venereal disease,’ Matron Ferguson said. She went on to explain that he had written to medical authorities in New Delhi asking if a specialist could be sent and the military police had done their best to help locally by closing several brothels in Chittagong, but there was still no reduction in the number of cases arriving at the hospital.
‘There have been major advances in the treatment of gonorrhoea in particular, with the treatment period being reduced from thirty days to just five. But as you know, we are still faced with problems in caring for them because as non-believers you nurses are not allowed to step foot in the VD ward to inject the infected patients.’ Matron did her best not to laugh when she added that further discussions had resulted in an agreement which involved a nurse standing, syringe in hand, at the entrance to the basha ward and completing the injection from there. In the dark!
Madge was one of the first nurses to be rostered on this new system when it was introduced the following week. There were twenty-eight patients who needed to be injected with penicillin, the new wonder drug, so she waited until twilight and prepared the syringes and needles. Out of the blue there was a short, sharp rainstorm and by the time she got to the ward it was very dark indeed and a swirling wind was gathering in strength. The nursing sepoy who helped her carry the large volume of syringes and needles was also in charge of the one hurricane lamp.
Madge had to hold back her giggles as the pair stood on the basha ward veranda, barely sheltered from the rain, as the stricken Indian soldiers came one by one to the door with their trousers hanging down. After being injected they returned to the ward. The wind became so intense it extinguished the hurricane lamp, whose pallid light had been far from perfect in the first place, but Madge stoically continued to administer the injections. Things went from bad to worse when she ran out of syringes and clean needles and they had to make a mad dash back for supplies. Madge cursed herself. She was sure that she’d counted out the right number.
A few days later Basil managed to get away from HQ Movements for a few moments with Madge over
