We sail, it is said, about 7am and we shall all be mighty glad to be at sea again. The blackout at night is depressing and having the ports closed in those crowded wards doesn’t improve the already rather awful atmosphere. Almost every case of the 360 is surgical, either wounds or plasters, and often both. I imagine that we have every conceivable known variety of splint and plaster cast, a more motley unshaven grimy assembly it would be difficult to imagine. I do imagine that there will still be some having their first wash when we reach Colombo, that is, if the water supply hangs out that far. There are two Australians in the padded cells, one homicidal and the other suicidal, and neither will eat or drink or allow anyone to come near him. It is dreadful to think that these two men were sane and normal when they left home and that having been through the hell of this war, they probably will never be so again. And there will be hundreds, perhaps thousands more of them before it is all over. It is just too ghastly to think about. We have been told that there are 60,000 troops to be evacuated from Singapore and if 5,000 can be got away they will be fortunate. This may well be exaggerated but I expect it is a grim story at best. The Empire Star came alongside early this morning. Among the troops there were RAF wives and children and a number of AIF Sisters, some Dutch ones and at least one QA.
Those who have been at Narvik and Dunkirk say that Singapore is the worst of all. Talking with the second mate over the rails this morning at 3am we have decided that it is all too grim for words and still the wireless continues to soft-soap the public and say that all is being done and that indeed this is just what we had planned. Apparently, the government believes that the public is possessed of a very low intelligence, if it cannot see through the padding and the inane and fatuous statements uttered daily on air and in the press.
February 16th 1942
4am
I have just returned to the lounge after doing rounds. I must walk miles these nights and my feet feel like it – up stairs and companionways, scrabbling in and out between beds in C Ward. I’ve just had to go down to F Ward for some astringent as no other ward possessed any and that is about ten miles at least, I should say. I always saw to the dispensary myself in C Ward and although I’ve made a song about it each morning, A and B are quite hopeless with theirs so the result is that I am always borrowing. We took in a colonel from Surgery tonight after they had done his leg in theatre: compound tibia and fibula and a really filthy enormous wound; it is not in plaster and slung up in a cock-up splint and extension. I’ve given four lots of morphia at least and various 2/15ths and 3/15ths and so on in an effort to induce them to sleep. Most of them are asleep now actually, but a few are restless, still fighting the Japs mentally, I suppose.
There is a lot of criticism, so the wireless reports, about the escape to a home port of three large German battleships, which is to lead to the navy and army having their own air-arms. Singapore they are lamenting, but telling themselves that it isn’t as bad as when France fell. If the general public only knew the mess that was and is Singapore and all the bitterness and criticism on these boys’ lips, they might think twice before talking so glibly about necessary sacrifices on the altar of their arrogance and pride. Everyone is unanimous that there is and never was any organisation in Singapore and that, since we are going to lose it eventually, it should have been evacuated long before, and most of the men saved. But, of course, we had our ‘prestige’ to consider.
February 17th 1942
3.30am
So Singapore has surrendered unconditionally and 60,000 troops are left behind. It’s all very sad and depressing. From Batavia came the announcement that some town in Java had been occupied by the Japanese and an important airdrome in Sumatra has gone. We have landed some troops – Australian and American – in Java. I am wondering if my sister Mona will be sent there. If Java goes then one shudders to think of the consequences for India and Australia.
I’ve more theatre cases this evening. For some reason best known to themselves they begin operating at 8pm these days. I’ve complained about it as it disturbs my patients when they need to sleep. I hope it is the last night of this nonsense. More annoying innuendoes from Matron this morning. She announced to Mona in front of the patients – ‘there’s an Australian throwing his food around and he’s going to see the colonel’. The food is very poor indeed on this trip so he’s justified. She loves to make a point of his being an Australian – a very low breed they must be – and if there is any trouble anywhere it’s always one of my much maligned fellow countrymen who is to blame. I feel so resentful and irritated when I hear Matron’s remarks. Why she joined the QAs, I can’t think; it certainly wasn’t for the love of, or pity for, suffering humanity. She’s about as low and ignorant as any form of animal life and we realise it’s not worth getting upset on her behalf, although it does get under my skin.
February 18th 1942
5.30pm
Another night gone and we get to Colombo on Sunday morning, so it is said. After that, popular rumour has it that we go on to Bombay. I hope we do, if it is only for mail. I haven’t the slightest doubt that wherever we are sent we shall be told that our mail has ‘just been sent’ to Colombo or Karachi or Timbuktu. A few more years like this and I shall be resigned to anything. I can understand the British character better now with its general lethargy and apathy; their resistance has been worn down by years of inefficiency. And even when you are hopeful and sanguine by nature, it gradually wears you down in time. You find yourself either resigned or bitter, perhaps both.
February 21st 1942
1.45am
Two days ago we had a little untoward excitement. I was about to go down to bed at about 9.30 when I noticed a crowd on deck gazing ardently over the rails and I discovered that a patient had decided to jump overboard. We still don’t know if he wanted to drown or just go for a swim. He jumped deliberately anyway and it was too late for anyone to get him. Someone threw him a lifebelt and they stopped the ship in one and a half minutes! A boat was lowered after some time but it was scarcely necessary as he continued to swim about quite merrily in his pyjamas and shoes and he had almost caught up with the ship again before they picked him up. I believe he was quite non-committal and said merely that he didn’t have a long enough swim. It really was funny to watch him swimming so easily in mid-ocean and to all intents and purposes enjoying it. Fortunately it was calm and there were no sharks. It caused quite a stir of course and the colonel was flapping about with the result that all anxiety neurosis patients, however sane, have been placed under guard if not lock and key since.
Darwin has been bombed twice. In fact we don’t seem to be doing anything to redress the situation, anywhere. The Russians, alone, appear to be pushing on. We have heard from everyone that the Japs have been particular everywhere to respect hospitals – in each case giving ample warning for them to evacuate their patients. It’s rather surprising in the light of the Chinese atrocities, but it seems to be true nevertheless. The patients here have more or less settled down and everything is under control now. No one is really ill in C Ward, and then the only DIL patient has been transferred to B today, so I can keep an eye on him better at night. Carrol, my night orderly, is such a good boy and nice with the patients. The nights pass quickly enough generally speaking. First one then another comes along for a chat over the rails, the major, then Edwards (4th) after his watch, then Harold soon after 4am and Clarke (2nd). I start work soon after 5am and the time goes quickly then. But it is still very sticky and warm and there is lightning every night. One more night and then Colombo!
February 23rd 1942
Colombo to Bombay
We left at 3am today. Yesterday we disembarked all Dominion troops and all naval personnel to the Australian hospital. The harbour was crowded with ships, many of them packed with troops which we found out were Australians. It seems they are leaving the ME and returning en masse either to Java or Australia. Paso Pengharen, whom we met in Alexandria, came aboard this morning, looking for us and i
t was he who gave us the news that everyone was heading for home again. I expect Padre Helman and Bill Williams and Ted and many more of my old Alexandria friends are among them. A pity to miss them. We have many empty beds now so the nights seem easy, or would be except that Colonel Churcher insists on sending up for me every half hour or so. However, I’ve tried him on paraldehyde tonight and I am hoping for results. Twenty letters came aboard it seems, but none for us. The second mate has produced another book for me to continue my narrative – so here endeth the first!
March 11th 1942
Karachi
And so beginneth the second volume. We have been here ten days and so far there has been no sign of any movement on our part, or the Tyrrhea’s, and with the Far East almost a memory it would seem that there is nothing left for us to do now, except perhaps an odd trip to Basrah.
The latest inhabitants (European) have been exceedingly kind to us hereabouts. We were invited to dinner with a Mr and Mrs Cullen, who took us on later to the dance at the Garrison Hall. They were really very charming and we enjoyed ourselves – particularly so at their house, I think; although the dance was inclined to be a rough and tumble as the night wore on.
There is little to record since we arrived here nearly three weeks ago: an odd dinner here and there, tea or a picnic as when we went to Sandspit beach on Saturday afternoon with the McLashens (Port Trust). Mostly we stay on board and amuse ourselves as best we can. The main mail has still not arrived. I’d hate to pollute this page with my sentiments regarding the Sea Transport! I haven’t heard from home or from Ken for about seven weeks and it seems like years. But I had an interesting letter from Mali and no fewer than three packets of books and magazines, including Charles Morgan’s latest The Empty Room, Somerset Maugham’s The Gentleman in the Parlour and The Road to Bordeaux by Denis and Cooper. I also received several John O’London’s and a copy of Horizon and Life and Letters Today. Lovely! Apart from these, and a solitary letter from Bob, there is nothing. I fume and fume about it and then descend into a mood of utter despair and resignation. It seems so hopeless trying to get any sense or satisfaction out of any government department in these days; they were always bad and entangled with red tape but now they are worse than ever.
No word from Delhi yet. I can see that my next move is to write to Miss Jones. Unfortunately the letters take so long to get through, even one way. One loses heart before one begins and yet that way lies defeat but I must do something about it. If I never benefit from it, at least I can insist on getting some satisfaction before I finish with the QAs. The IMS girls have just had 200 chips refunded to them for messing allowances. We’ve never seen 200 chips at once in all our lives and no pay at all since last August. Now it seems the CO Malaya has arrived in Australia with his money and papers. Well, bless him for that, anyway. Now I presume we’ll begin to be paid from Darwin and the ships take about two months or more to arrive with mail, so that’ll be grand. What doesn’t go down to the fish may possibly reach us, if we live long enough.
I expect to hear any day now that Port Moresby has had a full scale attack and I expect that Mother is worrying dreadfully about Clwyd. But of course I get no letters and I know nothing of what is happening anywhere. Sir Stafford Cripps is on his way to India to try and settle the deadlock between India and Britain. I hope he’s successful.
April 9th 1942
On deck – Basrah!
Over a month in Karachi and here we are in Basrah once again. It was the usual static existence whilst we were in Karachi but pleasant weather and an occasional excursion into town helped the time to pass quickly enough. We went to a garden party at Government House one afternoon; we in our beautiful white drills and the rest superbly attired in garden party frocks and the ever lovely sari. I still have a vision of those Indian women in a hundred different colours walking across the cool green lawns. The gardens were lovely too – petunias, phlox, antirrhinums, dahlias and salpiglossis and so many other old favourites. How heavenly to walk in a garden after so many months aboard a ship.
Then one day we went out in mid-stream, some distance out. The Georgie was being towed in and, as she was so large – the largest ship ever to come into Karachi – we had to move out. She had been badly bombed off Suez some months ago and was towed by tugs all the way. She looked enormous as she went in, quite dwarfing all the other ships near her. We quite thought we were going back into Karachi, but as we were anticipating orders to move, we received instead word to go on to Bombay. This shook us rather badly and more especially because it was the beginning of the month and we had not seen the field cashier. Of course there is one in Bombay but we only got Rs115 from him while the Karachi allowance is more generous, allowing us Rs150 or more. Having reconciled ourselves to this, we suddenly received a signal to tell us to proceed to Basrah – about 36 hours out. As we had no stores on board for patients, we had to put out into Karachi for 24 hours to replenish stores. It was Easter weekend but we had managed to get Rs50 from the FC and that sufficed temporarily. The Dorsetshire was in too so we saw Evelyn once again: we went over one evening and they came over for coffee the last morning. Now we are in Basrah, alongside. We arrived early this morning and leave tomorrow morning.
Bob came on board about 11am and later sent up the most gorgeous flowers. Real flowers, fresh and fragrant from the garden. Perfectly lovely. He came and had lunch with me later as the CO would not allow me off the ship for tiffin. The patients started arriving soon after 2pm and were still coming in ones and twos until almost 7pm. I am in Officers and Sick BORs this time. We were full except for four beds in Officers. Bob and Danny came again in the evening after we had handed over to Mary who was doing night duty. Poor Danny looked so sad and changed with reasons enough for that matter. Bob was – well, Bob! Duncan and Murphy completed the party and it was a long session and not altogether pleasing to some of us. But it couldn’t be helped and we couldn’t walk out for any apparent reason.
We left next morning early. It was a pleasant trip up the Gulf. We all had a delightful lot of boys, very quiet and orderly and there were no complaints. I lost one man, sad to relate; he was too ill to have been moved actually, although as he probably would have died in any case, I fancy he was better off on the ship than in the last hospital, where he had been, in Libya. He wasn’t buried at sea, which is unusual but they took him ashore, covered with the flag, as soon as we berthed at Karachi and he was to be buried there by a Roman Catholic padre. I’ve written to his wife.
I’ve been desperately tired lately, not physically, so much as mentally. I wonder if I shall remember all this when I read these words, many years hence. Maybe I shall smile then, although I didn’t feel much like it at the time.
April 22nd 1942
Jimmy’s birthday today. There was the usual party before lunch. Inescapable.
April 23rd 1942
Went into town by taxi and took Kevin with us. He was on his way to see Mary, who is in the BMH, having trouble with a tooth. It seems she took the second anaesthetic very badly and they didn’t do anything in the end. She doesn’t realise it but she stopped breathing on the table and they were very worried about her for a while. Jenny and I booked seats for No, No Nannette and then went for a drive to Clifton. Quite nice there – a long colonnade and steps to the sea somewhere beyond; trim little enclosed gardens on each side and when the zinnias are in bloom it should be colourful. To the Sym Chat and then, and while we were there, Matron and Captain Raj walked in, so we sat together until it was time for us to leave for dinner. We went back to the Grand and then walked to the Paradise in the cool evening air. The picture was fairly good but not particularly so.
Then a gharry home with the hood down. I always like going back to Keamari town with the clip clop of the horses’ feet, the still cool starry night, all unhurried and peaceful and the bunder setting off from the little harbour over the still black waters. Sometimes, as last night, there is a golden path from the moon and white sails crossing it. All the big s
hips are blacked out except for port and starboard lights and there is no sound at all except for the splash of the oar, if there isn’t enough wind to allow the sail to take us along. Lately, during the day, it would have been rather too boisterous. Coming back at midday two days ago, we nearly went over as we turned out of the basin. A very nasty moment. I shall remember these things perhaps, when I am far from here: the boatmen, or bunder-wallahs, usually one man and perhaps two small boys. Often the ‘man at the wheel’ is a boy aged not more than six years old and he brings us alongside as easily as anything. And shinning up the great tall masts and standing aloft with only their toes curling around a rope is a feat of no mean order.
April 29th 1942
Karachi to Basrah
We heard last Friday that we were to set out again for Basrah on Sunday. Only half an hour before I had had a letter from Bob saying he was coming to Karachi on leave. And then this news. I feel so sorry, visualising the poor man in a strange town knowing no-one and all of us departed. The launch came in next day and a note with it to say that he saw no release until the end of the month and that he would be probably coming by plane. So maybe it’ll be alright after all.
We had Matron, Cameron and Mona for tea one day. I fear that they will have left before we return and if so – and if they go to the Middle East – they will not be returning. Mary is back with us, but is not doing duty this trip. Scotty and Matron are being childish about the wards and I’m fed up with both of them coming to me with much be-twisted stories of what each said to the other and so forth. For grown women these two ought to be ashamed of themselves.
It’s getting warmer and stickier but it could be worse. Quite a lot of rocky coastline yesterday and odd ships. We are supposed to get in sometime tomorrow I think, but time will tell.
I’m finishing my mats at long last and, with other odds and ends of sewing and an occasional letter or air-graph, the day passes somehow. The evenings, in part, we have spent usually sewing, while Jimmy reads us his favourite Elizabethan poets. I am trying to introduce an occasional modern work but it doesn’t seem to go down too well. Well, it’s as good a way of passing the evenings as any and better than most. And if I don’t want to listen, I can just let my mind drift as it often does, from one thing to another and from one country to another.
Joyce's War Page 14
