Prisoner from Penang

1. Singapore-4

The Alexandra British Military Hospital was about four miles to the west of the city. The pride of Singapore, the newly constructed hospital was said to be the best military medical facility in the world and had opened only about six months earlier. Staffed by Queen Alexandra nurses shipped in from Britain and Australia, the mass influx of wounded men meant they now needed to be supplemented by volunteer civilian nurses. The hospital, which boasted all the latest modern equipment, including x-ray machinery and air-conditioned operating theatres, was able to accommodate over three hundred patients.

As I approached the entrance to report for duty, I was nervous. Being medically untrained, I felt an imposter entering the building, a three-storey, white stucco, colonial style building, surrounded by lawns and trees.

I was asked to report to an office on the ground floor, where a harassed middle-aged civilian woman ticked my name off a list and told me to go up to a ward on the first floor and ask for Sister Brewster.

The nursing sister was dressed in a crisp white uniform with matching starched veil. She looked me up and down and gave her head a shake, evidently asking herself why she was having to deal with an unqualified minion.

‘I don’t know why they keep sending us VADs. It’s trained nurses we need. Just make sure you don’t get in the way.’

‘I’ll do my best. What would you like me to do?’

I expected to be given auxiliary nursing duties – washing out bedpans and sick bowls and changing beds. As a schoolteacher, I was long past the point of being squeamish. I’d had to clean up after many small children when they were sick or had accidents – often the kind that required clean underwear.

‘The boys in here are badly injured. Some of them need help with writing letters home. Think you can manage that?’

‘Of course. I’m a teacher.’ I tried not to sound as affronted as I felt.

She cracked a smile. ‘I didn’t mean it in that way. It’s just that some of the chaps are in a pretty bad state. Don’t want you blubbing over them or fainting on me.’ Seeing my expression, she added. ‘You think I’m joking! The last VAD we had up here only lasted two hours.’

‘I think I can manage better than that.’

All the beds in the ward were occupied. I’d no idea so many soldiers had already been injured, nor the scale of their injuries. I swallowed. I was nervous as I approached the bed to meet my first patient.

At first, I thought he was asleep. I was about to move on to the next name on my list. But something made me linger a moment. I picked up the chart hanging on the end of the bed and read that he was Australian, twenty-two-years-old, a victim of shrapnel wounds from shellfire, now recovering from an operation to remove his right arm.

As I put the clipboard back, I saw he was awake. He’d just had his eyes closed.

‘G’day,’ he said cheerily, immediately putting me at ease. ‘You’re a new girl, aren’t you? Where you from?’

He was a good-looking chap with light brown curly hair, blue eyes and a friendly smile. His accent left no doubt as to his national origins.

‘Penang. I arrived here yesterday.’

‘Hear you had it bad up there. The Nips have been giving it quite a hammering. What’s your name, Sheila?’

‘It’s certainly not Sheila.’ I couldn’t help smiling. ‘It’s Mary.’ I glanced up at the sign above his bed. ‘Nice to meet you, Corporal Murphy.’

‘Call me Charlie. We Aussies don’t stand on ceremony.’

‘Righty-ho, Charlie it is. Now, we’d better get on with it. I’ve quite a few lads to see today.’ I pulled up a chair at his bedside. ‘Who are we writing to?’

‘Mum and Dad.’ He told me their address and I wrote it down, waiting for him to start dictating. He thought for a moment, before saying, ‘Dear Mum and Dad, sorry it’s taken me a while to get round to writing to you, only I’ve been so busy having a good time I never seemed to find the right moment to pick up a pen, but at least I’m doing it now. Don’t be worrying about me as I’m having a ball here. Not seen any action, just a bit of trench digging and bashing the parade ground. I’ve been doing a lot of swimming and going to parties. Singapore is a bonza place.’

I had been struggling to keep up, but I stopped and stared at him.

He shrugged, then tapped his nose. ‘Don’t want the old dears worrying unduly.’

My mouth gaped wide. ‘You’re not going to tell them about your arm?’

‘They’ll find out soon enough. A one-armed soldier is good for no one. Army’ll be sending me back Down Under as soon as there’s space on a ship. Women and children first.’

‘But surely your parents must know what’s happening here? They’ll have seen the news reels.’

He snorted. ‘No, mate, they live out in the bush. They get their news when they leave the station and go into town for supplies. And before you ask, that’s only every few months. We’re fifty miles from the nearest town.’ He grinned. ‘I could well see them before this letter gets there. But just in case I don’t, there’s no need to give the old girl sleepless nights worrying about me. And Dad’ll take it bad too. You can’t work a sheep station with a missing arm.’

There was no trace of self-pity about that young man. His future had been ruined by a mortar bomb and yet he was determined to remain cheerful – or at least to present a cheerful face to the outside world.

‘What will you do, when you get back to Australia, if you can’t work with sheep?’

‘God knows. I’ll worry about that when the time comes. Maybe I’ll find a girl who isn’t too picky, and we can open a bar somewhere. I’ll count the money and she can serve the beers.’ He grinned and gave me a wink. ‘What about you, Miss Mary? Looks like you’ve got yourself a fella.’ He nodded at my engagement ring.

‘Missing in action. RAF. Shot down over Penang.’

I swallowed down the tears. I hadn’t allowed myself to cry for Frank yet, believing that if I did, it would be admitting there was no hope.

‘Sorry, Mary. That’s rough. Those RAF and RAAF boys were incredibly brave, flying planes that were only fit for the scrapheap. You should be very proud of your fiancé.’

I swallowed again. ‘As your parents will be of you.’

‘Maybe. But I doubt it. They didn’t want me to join up. But no one’s going to call me a coward or a bludger. No chance. With a bit of luck, I’ll get out alive. Not in one piece, but alive’ll do. I lost some good mates in the fighting here. I’ve had enough.’

Charlie gasped and squeezed his eyes tightly shut.

‘Can I get you something? Shall I call a nurse?’

He shook his head and forced a smile. ‘It’s the arm. It hurts like hell. As if it was still there. Terrible pain in my fingers. Only I haven’t got any fingers.’ He grinned at me, but I could tell he was suffering. ‘Don’t worry, Mary. It’ll pass.’

‘Shall we leave the letter until another time? I can come back after I’ve done the other chaps.’

‘No. We’re done. That’s all I want to say.’

I turned to go, then something struck me. ‘Won’t your parents wonder why the letter isn’t in your handwriting? Won’t they guess something’s wrong?’

He gave a chuckle. ‘I doubt they’ve ever seen my handwriting. Not a lot of call for it when you’re rounding up sheep all day.’