Madge smiled. ‘Perhaps we’ll be able to forget that there’s a war going on at all.’
Basil had to return to work, but escorted Madge back to the main gate of the hospital where she bumped into Havildar Bahadur, who said there had been more problems with spitting on the POW ward and a nurse had gone off in tears.
‘There’s a lot more to cry about in the Burma Campaign than the Japanese spitting in your face,’ she calmly replied.
But the POWs, and the war as a whole, seemed to slip from her mind as she wandered back to her basha thinking only of Basil and hoping that time would pass quickly until they could see each other again.
21
Holiday in Calcutta
Madge, who was in charge of the couple’s accreditation documents for the holiday in Calcutta, spotted that Basil’s primary cholera immunisation was out of date. Thankfully they had driven less than a mile so she asked the driver if he would be so kind as to divert the short distance to 68 IGH, their sister hospital. As luck would have it, the first person they saw was a QA sister who also helped out at 56 IGH and they quickly explained the problem and how pressed they were for time. The QA smiled. ‘What else would you expect from a man?’ she joked, telling Basil to follow her.
‘Would you prefer it in your bum or arm, sir?’
Basil laughed. ‘I’ll take it like a man in the arm.’
Within minutes they were back en route to the Patanga airfield, some ten miles from Chittagong. The casual, laid-back charm of the American security officer belied the hawk-eyed efficiency with which their accreditation documents were scrutinised before access was granted. The official spotted that Basil had received a cholera booster that morning. ‘I hope it didn’t hurt too much but it sure is wise, buddy, with the way things are in Calcutta.’
Madge thought the official was just being friendly and told him how much she was looking forward to the trip. ‘Neither of us have ever flown before,’ she said, the excitement clear on her face.
‘Well, I’m sure you’ll have a ball then, miss.’
With that they were escorted to a jeep and driven across the PSP (pierced-steel planking) runway to a DC-3 that was being loaded with crates, parcels and all sorts. It was their first surprise on what would be a very interesting trip.
‘Have a nice day, youse guys,’ said the driver as he dropped them off by the plane, which was a hive of activity. By the looks of things Madge and Basil would be the only English passengers because the others were casually dressed with badges on their shoulders featuring two yellow eagles over a white star. Everybody mixed happily together and Madge noticed a marked difference from the ‘them and us’ divide that separated the ranks in the British military.
Not only had Madge never flown before, she had never really spent time in the company of Americans and she found that she loved their courtesy and their accents. Basil had to smile when the pilot, wearing knee-high boots, a leather flying jacket wrapped over his shoulders and Hollywood sunglasses, gave them a casual salute as he walked past with a cigarette dangling from his lips and a soft drink in his left hand.
The temperature was rising rapidly even though it was still early in the day and Madge was dressed in her nursing khaki, which she found quite comfortable as she and Basil stood talking by the side of the plane alongside their two lightly packed cases. The handsome young American turned back and said the weather forecast was predicting swirling cross-winds from the Bay of Bengal and because of that the flight could be quite entertaining.
‘We may go a little higher than normal to get above the winds,’ he added, ‘but this here old crate is a stripped-out Dakota DC-3 and just about the safest taxi you’ll ever get to fly in.’
What a nice man, thought Madge as they began to board the flight that would take around an hour and a half before they reached Calcutta’s Dum Dum airport. Madge was surprised at the steep incline passengers were forced to make once they boarded at the side of the plane.
‘That’s because the tail wheel is so low when the plane is on the ground,’ one of the crew explained.
If the slope surprised her, then the inside of the plane was a real eye-opener. Instead of a passenger flight they were on a narrow freight carrier. Parcels were everywhere with some US personnel sitting on packages that were strapped to the floor in the central gangway that ran the length of the interior. Madge and Basil had been allocated so-called seats, which meant sitting on a long length of strong rope, woven like a fishing net, which was secured to the fuselage. Madge’s dreams of enjoying a gin and tonic above the clouds like Betty Grable in those Hollywood movies very quickly evaporated.
They were, of course, grateful for their ‘seats’ but conversation became difficult when the plane began to vibrate as the twin engines coughed into life and the old warrior of the skies rumbled down the runway. Madge looked around once the plane was airborne to see signs either side of the pilot’s cabin stating, in big red capital letters, NO SMOKING. Underneath both signs were guys happily
