(facsimiles of hand-written memoires part 1, part 2, part 3)
Transcription:
Part 2
Of course despite my careful instructions several diseases were acquired by the ship's company in Bombay and I was quite pleased when our stay of several days came to an end and we were back on the open sea. It was surprising how late most nights were and how plentiful the stars. Of course the Pole Star and the Great Bear had sunk low on the northern horizon.
One morning going onto the bridge I reported a spicy smell of land which sent the navigator ("Vasco"?) hurrying to his charts. Somewhat relieved he returned to announce that Columbo was 96 miles off. Shortly afterwards we saw Adam's Peak (2,243m 7,360ft).
Columbo harbour was most attractive and the town itself with its vegetation including flamboyant trees was a welcome change from the arid landscapes we had become accustomed to. The aircraft carrier indomitable was present and the Royal Marine band stirred the patriotism that in some cases may have become somewhat latent.
Runs ashore were generous and I saw my one and only case of "Black Smallpox" so called because the eschars ran together and well nigh covered the body surface. As usual the patient died.
The Galle Face Hotel was a typical refuge for the "Raj". We moved on to Trincomalee – the largest natural harbour in the world but without much in the way of shore facilities.
About this time occurred an incident of which I am a little ashamed. The Eastern Fleet was operating in the Bay of Bengal. One evening our captain, perhaps impressed by our position on the starboard quarter of the Indomitable, with the C.-in-C. aboard, announced that the officers would dine with him in the ward room, and don number tens. Well I only had one set of number tens and with little prospect of getting them laundered did not see much point in this tiresome order. Appearing in the normal rig of the day – the captain said "if you are not going to change, doctor, you will dine in your cabin on your own". "Thank you sir I would prefer it". The next morning I was sent for to be told that I was totally unsuited for the Navy and that he was really recommending my immediate transfer to the RAMC. Shortly after this the Fortune was signalled to come alongside the flagship and I was hoisted aboard and shown to a spacious cabin complete with telephone. In due course I was seen by the C.-in-C.'s secretary. After hearing my story he told me that commander Pankhurst had never been the same since he was hit on the head by a telegraph pole as a midshipman. He had been on his motorbike at the time. As they were a medical Officer short at the time I was taken on and had quite a pleasant few days until the cruisers Dorsetshire and Cornwall were sunk by Japanese aircraft in the vicinity. Two destroyers were detached to pick up the survivors – one was the Fortune. It was remembered that she had no MO on board. The Fortune returned alongside and Bain left the luxuries of a capital ship and no further mention was made of the matter.
Soon after this we were en route for Batavia (now Jakarta). In the early hours of the morning a signal, in cypher, directed to Fortune and graded most immediate was received. When I unpicked this it came out about the "Bishop of London's breasts"! I thought it might be a code within a code and after a further check took it to the Captain. He was not amused. I then realised that we did not carry the latest decipher books as we had oiled at sea and had failed to make our customary weekly harbour call. We were due in Batavia at 08:00 but the captain decided to break radio silence and request a repeat of last week's code. In due course this came and I quickly unpicked the startling message that Batavia was in Japanese hands. I suppose at this stage we were a mere 40 miles off the capital of Java. We steamed away at top speed for Singapore. Sadly the vast harbour was hidden by a dense sea fog and, apart from the ghostly shapes of other shipping and intriguing mirages of exotic landfalls, nothing was to be seen and no shore leave was given as we had only called to victual and renew our confidential books. Back to Trincomalee to find the Eastern Fleet had fled and that Celon had been evacuated and removed to Mombasa because a Japanese invasion was expected.
It was about this time that I noticed extreme listlessness and loss of appetite. One day I climbed up to the bridge to be greeted by the captain with "what has happened to you doc? You look like a bloody Chinaman". Jaundice! Had I shaved in natural light I might have noticed it myself – but it was sometime since I had seen myself in daylight and I suppose I thought my urine was concentrated because of the tropical heat. I was admitted to the hospital in Colombo and quickly recovered but the Fortune had gone to join the fleet in Mombasa and I was hastily converted into orthopaedic specialist and invited to join a most comfortable mess in town. this large bungalow had been taken over by three RNVR medics on the hospital staff. Needless to say an adequate and efficient civilian team had been engaged to keep the house. The only fairly minor disadvantage was that my three mates were homosexuals and did not realise their mistake until I had moved in.
For some not very obvious reason the Navy had established an aircraft repair base at Coimbatore in southern India and in response to an urgent request I was dispatched to sort out their medical problems.
Coimbatore – though further from the sea than I had ever been – was quite civilised with a cinema and English club. The cinema used to hold up the showing of a film until we arrived and settle down. It was pleasant in the nearby Nilgiri Hills at Ootacamund and Wellington, mainly I suppose because it was much cooler than on the plains. there was quite a good golf course bordering on the jungle which lead down to Mysore and eventually Madras. It was whilst playing round this course that's a tiger leisurely walk to cross the fairway ahead of me.
After a few weeks the medical affairs were sorted out and I returned to Columbo. No peace – the Navy had decided in its infinite wisdom to take over the RAF station at Puttalam, which had been abandoned because of, amongst other things, a malarial problem. Puttalam was about 70 miles north of Columbo and thus well within range of the capital. It was on a lagoon and there was excellent sea bathing nearby. The sea was rough and murky and populated with barracuda, but it was at least cool.
The officers mess was in a large building that had been the equivalent of a Town Hall. In the grounds were numerous recently erected wooden buildings providing accommodation for the ratings plus sick bay etc.
Today it's hard to realise that Columbo was at least six weeks journey time from London. Whilst at the RNAH Columbo I was called upon to treat a severe eye injury and sort the advice (by radio) of Williamson Noble the civilian consultant in London. His advice was "get him home as quickly as possible". The RAF came to our aid and laid on a Mosquito which with frequent fuelling stops got him to the UK in under 24 hours.
I must have spent some months at Puttalam and there was plenty to do. I entered the battle against the Anopheles mosquito with some enthusiasm and procured a Harley Davidson motorbike plus side-car to tour the island and map out the mosquito population. An impressive map was produced and decorated the MDG's Department for some time.
Sometimes, in the early morning, I would set out on the Harley Davidson with the armaments officer (named Sievwright) in the sidecar to shoot jungle cock on the verges of the roads. These Grass verges (about 10 to 15 feet wide) separate the usually well surfaced roads from the dense jungle in which such interesting animals as elephants and leopards could be found. In fact Sievwright kept a leopard cub which did not like me very much.
The "toothie" (Dentist) was a chap from Edinburgh called Tim McGowan. Quite normal, apart from the fact that he honestly believed he could swim, he couldn't. When we went bathing he would happily plunge in and soon be out of his depth and in need of rescue. We had with us a pilot from Australia called tubby Billings. He was a superb swimmer, built like an outside prop forward and he looked after Tim and rescued him when he thought he had had enough. In peace-time he had been one of the Bondi Beach Patrol and was up to all sorts of diverting tricks such as swimming at speed submerged except for a foot out of the water like a periscope.
There was a nice little church at Puttalam with a jolly Sinahlese parson who was really quite lazy and I was happy to take matins for him on a Sunday morning when he felt like a lie-in. Of course this was an abbreviated service as they were is a limit to what I was authorised to do.
The local hospital was a primitive affair and I did not have much contact with it. I did however the underlying gratitude of the local police inspector. His little boy of seven or eight years was dying with gastroenteritis and he begged me to come and give a second opinion. The child was severely dehydrated and responded miraculously to intravenous fluids. There was a continual battle to keep the jungle at bay and the runway clear. Eventually we were given about 500 Italian POWs to help in this task. They were certainly more effective than the locals. (The Sinhalese were lazy and held most of the sedentary posts on the island, whilst the Tamils from South India were energetic and "got things done"). From my point of view the Italians were a dead loss as they nearly all had venereal disease and needed constant treatment with inspections etc.
At Puttalam I shared a cabin with an interesting fellow (Geoffrey Parrish) from the West Coast of Scotland, who delighted in swimming in the Minch. I was impressed by the number of oranges he consumed. He had been rejected as a pilot in the RAF (something to do with the muscle balance of his eyes) however the Fleet Air Arm accepted him and he became their star fighter pilot. Periodically he would disappear to engage his Japanese counterparts in combat so that he could report on their tactics.
We also ran a course for Royal Marines training in jungle warfare. The first batch that came were pretty raw and seemed not to have explored much beyond the Mile End Road until they found themselves sweltering in the tropical heat and blinking in the bright sunshine of Puttalam. In fact they must have been transported by sea (some six weeks from the UK) and had lectures on the way. Nowadays they would no doubt be flown out in a Hercules in a few hours. However one morning in the sickbay I was startled by the arrival of truckloads of RMs holding their stomachs and vomiting. Rather stupidly they had been eating some green berries. The sergeant had thoughtfully brought a specimen of a castor oil seed. I was alarmed to find on reference to my text book that they were poisonous especially if eaten with the husks on and three of four were likely to be fatal. These chaps had averaged half a dozen each. I hurriedly got in touch with the RN medical specialist at Columbo for advice. "Hang on" he said. He returned and read out The text that I had already perused. He commiserated with me but could not be of any additional help as he was as ignorant as me on the subject. I arranged what treatment I could for the symptoms and sat down gloomily to contemplate the communique to the Medical Director General/Admiralty – I have the honour etc etc to report the deaths of the following Royal Marines on active service due to the consumption of castor oil berries (then a list of 50 also names) and came to the conclusion that it would have been easier to do in the noise and smoke of battle on the high seas than in this tranquil hut on the edge of tropical jungle.
However I am glad to say they all recovered despite swallowing so many husks and all. So much for the textbooks. If I remember right a 2% casualty rate was permitted as live ammunition was in use, but I daresay I would have been taken to task for allowing a 100% mortality from poisoning.
My above mentioned cabin mate would from time to time, decide that the MO should experience the joys of flight and take me up in one of those primitive kites of the early 40s a swordfish I believe because it was open to the weather. He would climb to a great height and then shout to me about a vessel on the sea far below. "Let's have a closer deco" he would mutter as we scream down in an almost vertical dive to pull out at about mast height. It must have scared the crew of the fishing boat nearly is much as it scared me.
On another occasion when the engine cut out whilst flying straight and level I was invited to bail out (I did have a parachute) I asked him what he was going to do – "force land in the nearest paddy field" was the reply. I decided to sit tight and hope for the best. I had noticed before that as one descended the heat got more and more intense like easing one's way into a hot oven. This time it seemed an even hotter oven but apart from a bit of a bump and a rather abrupt stop it wasn't much different to a normal landing.
Ceylon was a beautiful lush island but very hot and humid. During the monsoon periods it rained daily at 1600 for an hour or so – most refreshing. Of course at night one longed for a climate that called for a sheet or even a blanket. Some 7-8000 ft up in Nuwara Eliya was an English club with trout streams and a golf course with and occasional frost at night a day or two at their made a pleasing break.
Excitement at Puttalam was rare but once a message told us to expect and intercept to Japanese spies who were to be landed at night from a submarine on our bathing beach. About a dozen of us formed a reception committee and duly received the visitors without a struggle. The next day we handed them over with some relief as they were an embarrassment.
Early in 1944 I was relieved and set out for the UK in the Maloja. It must have been an uneventful trip as I remember very little apart from how cold it was in the Suez Canal. Eventually we arrived in the Mersey – a cold grey day in early February. I made my way to Lime Street Station with my large crate. The latter caused no problems until I arrived at Ealing Broadway where the staff were too weak to shift it up the stairs.
Home (46 Denbigh Road Ealing) seemed to have changed little. Pop was on his own and very pleased with his concrete air raid shelter at the bottom of the garden. Mum was in the country I forget where. Keith in the forerunner of the SAS was somewhere in the Balkans I believe. It was Keith who earlier in the war had presented me with a life subscription to the Reader's Digest at a cost of £5. A limited number of these were available for those engaged in especially hazardous postings – apparently my berth in the Fortune qualified. I must admit that at the time I would not have classified it as such. After the war I learnt that 75% of fleet destroyers were lost. A high toll and I am glad that I had no inkling of it during my service.
It was pleasant and relaxing at home although I found rationing irksome – the blackout, of course, I was accustomed to.
I reported to the Medical Director General who told me he could offer me one of two postings: either I could have an exciting and unspecified appointment or I could go and look after the WRNS at RNAS Donibristle. To my eternal shame I chose the latter, as the other turned out to be a landing craft on D Day!
The WRNS were incidental at Donibristle (= HMS Merlin 18/4/45-13/5/45 Capt. B.D. Nicholson) which was quite a busy Fleet Air Arm base at the north side of the Forth Bridge near Inverkeithing. There was a large sickbay augmented by a large private house at Aberdour serving as sick quarters. The medical set up was headed by Surg. Lt. Cdr. Paviére, who had a general practice in Inverkeithing and never signed anything. I was intrigued at the volume of "food for the hennies" that one collected from the sister in charge at Aberdour when visiting the sick quarters. I suppose for obvious reasons transport came from a pool and one was always driven by a Wren. Even so I did open one of the packages destined for the PMO's hens. It contained several pounds of sugar.
Gavin Shaw was one of the other MOs. He was a young and able physician married to a very pretty girl – the daughter of an Edinburgh physician. They had a flat in Edinburgh which I sometimes borrowed.
My cousin Nancy Stout and her family lived nearby Dumferline and were most hospitable. Nancy Stout was the eldest daughter of my father's brother John and Annie his wife. Dorrie Mackenzie was her sister. Nancy was married to a tiresome Shetlander named James and they had two daughters (Kathleen and Dorothy). Kathleen married but divorced shortly after and went to Canada. Dorothy married David Reader and MO in the RAF concerned with research into flight.
When the war in Europe ended (May I think) I was posted to MONAB IV at Middle Wallop in Hampshire. (Mobile Operational Naval Air Base = HMS Nabcatcher 15/5/45-22/1/46 Capt. Villiers Surtees). We trained hard there but were slightly put out that our hostilities were not yet over and the far east beckoned again.
We were soon on the high seas bound for Sydney NSW. Two incidents are remembered and both occurred in the Australian Bight. The Met. Officer was F.D.Ommaney (A zoologist from London) and a charming chap. I was watching the effortless planing of an albatross following our wake when he came and told me a lot about this fascinating bird. Some hours later I was chatting to the captain and intriguing him with my recently acquired information. Next day I found I was to address the ship's company on the albatross. Serves me right and Ommaney sat in the front row.
The other excitement was the removal of an acutely inflamed appendix. At that time I had not embarked on a surgical career but I had been HS to Zachary Cope and Handfield-Jones at St Mary's and also casualty officer. Despite the pressure of several more senior MOs it was decided I should do the job and choose my anaesthetist. After Sam thought I selected H.A.G. Winter (I met him again during a GP refresher course at Windsor and he remembered the scene better than I do). When ready to begin I sent a message to the bridge – "reduced speed and put the ships head into the wind". This was ignored. Even so the operation went smoothly and the patient recovered quickly.
The Australian Bight was certainly tempestuous The skies were leaden and the sea rushing along with great waves and many white horses.
Sydney with the "bridge" but not the Opera House was most hospitable and the few days we spent there were packed with programs laid on by local families. I enjoyed an expedition to the Blue Mountains and developed a liking for Blue Gums (Eucalyptus).
We transferred to the aircraft carrier Indomitable and set out to land and establish an airbase on Borneo. I had been attracted to Brunei and British North Borneo by the stamps but little expected to actually visit the idyllic spot. We called at Papua New Guinea to make last-minute arrangements and then we were on our way. However The Japs surrendered unconditionally, on instructions from Hirohito, and we were diverted to Hong Kong. On The way in we were subjected to kamikaze attacks by boat and air.
We established ourselves at Kaitak in the New Territories just outside Kowloon. The runway was short and with hills at one end and the sea at the other it was not popular with pilots. To make things worse we shared it with the RAF but did not communicate with them, thus the Fleet Air Arm could be taking off on the single runway whilst the RAF were landing.
The population of Hong Kong, Kowloon etc was about 500,000 (in the 80s this had risen to 5,000,000 and high-rise buildings had to change the skyline beyond recognition).
I was put in charge of the Japanese POW hospital and did Ward rounds with a Japanese SRA and an interpreter. I gathered that it was not done to alter a diagnosis as this gave rise to serious loss of face by the doctor who made the original diagnosis. I was present at an appendectomy carried out without anaesthesia - stoical race.
For a time we lived under canvas at Kaitak and were much troubled by thieving at which the Chinese excel. Our armed patrols were not much use. Indeed on one occasion they pinched the bed from under the officer of the watch.
I had a two ton ambulance at my disposal and used to go into Kowloon to get supplies, as a precaution I took a Royal Marine sentry to keep an eye on the purchases. On one occasion while he was doing this the Chinese recovered all four wheels. When I returned I was not best pleased and we had to wait some time for replacements to arrive.
Another entertainment was Jeep racing in the hills around Kowloon often ending in a dip in the South China Sea. H.A.G.Winter of anaesthetic fame, climbed onto an offshore junk in the altogether only to be shooed off by an indignant china woman with a broom.
As a change from solid naval fair a meal in any of innumerable restaurants was a great treat and we were always fêted as the liberators I suppose we were.
If we could hitch a lift to Macan for a night or so further entertainment was available mainly in the form of women and gambling. On my visit I noted the three main brothel streets with the wares on display in the windows. The superior one was for mandarins only and each girl had an ayah with her. The next down was for officers and the third for ratings. When I turned in at my hotel there was a knock at the door and the manager arrived with a dozen or so attractive girls. having declined the offer I was settling down when he returned with a fresh batch thinking that none of the original display was to my liking.
A pleasant few months but spent in a rather humid autumnal Hong Kong. The time for demobbing arrived and I took passage to the UK in HMS Dullisk Cove which was a very slow naval repair ship. Tedium was to some extent relieved by having to take care of a charming RN Captain being invalided out of the service with alcoholism!
Apart from challenging other vessels nothing much happened though in the Irish Sea we passed a trawler hauling in its nets. Out droll captain turned about and over the loudhailer shouted "You're the first ship we have overtaken since leaving Hong Kong six weeks ago."
Though previously having served in the Med, it was from the deck of the Dullisk Cove that I witnessed in all their glory the snowcapped Sierra Nevada, on a crystal clear day, 90 miles away.
Released from RN 14/6/46. The novelty of civilian life took some getting used to, and rationing was a new burden to bear. As a doctor I could and did get extra rations of petrol for the Austin A40 I then possessed.
One of the problems was what to do next. I went to Stalmine near Pilling in Lancashire where my uncle Andrew was in practice. His practice had been taken over by his second son Andrew Bain Taylor and I did a GP locum for a month or so. It was a mainly rural practice with many farms and numerous edible gifts were collected on one's rounds. It was also a very varied practice and included midwifery (of which I had come across little in the past few years).
However I didn't feel it was quite what I wanted and I toyed with the idea of returning to the Navy but finding they were desperate to have me, and realising that, in the unlikely event of my rising to the top as MDG, the other admirals would find me somewhat suspect and that my medical skills would be non-existent. I decided against it and returned to my alma mater (St. Mary's W2). I was accepted as an ex-service surgical registrar at a salary of £200 a year.
In my hurry to qualify I had taken the MRCS LRCP (conjoint diploma) in 1940, and as I was on a degree course my first task was to take the finals of the MB BS (London). This was achieved after a few months work. The exams were notable for two incidents: the examiners in my surgical viva voce were Messrs. Shattock and Boggan. In the pharmaceutical vivas Sir Adolphe Abrahams took their place and opened as follows:
Q. what is the caloric value of a pint of the milk of human kindness?
A. 100
A.A. No. Not ascertainable.
Q. What is the caloric value of a banana?
A. 100
A.A. No. 80.
Q. Why aren't oysters and ideal only article of diet? – Apart from the expense.
A. They are deficient in vitamin C.
A.A. On The contrary they are rich in it.
DWB. You Will excuse me sir, but a monkey was admitted to Saint Mary's fed on a diet of oysters and champagne and it died of scurvy.
A.A. Very interesting.
I passed and on my way out realised that the unfortunate monkey had been on a diet of sponge cakes and champagne and had succumbed to rickets.
The MB BS out of the way, my next goal was an FRCS (England). This entailed two parts and the first (primary) was quite a hurdle – it meant going back many years to anatomy and physiology 2nd MB stuff but this time the standard was raised to BSc level. I was fortunate in finding an excellent tutor in anatomy and there was always the latest edition of Samson Wright to mug up the physiology. The anatomy tutorials took place in a flat in St John's Wood and cost £30 for about 30. I remember perhaps a dozen of us cramming into a small room with a blackboard and a box of bones. Our tutor resembled rana temporaria (Common Frog ed.) and together we assembled the human body in our minds taking it in turns to answer the construction questions.
A briefing was held before the exam and the most likely questions were discussed for the written paper. The oral part of the exam depended on the examiner and each was dissected for his peculiarities and the replies prepared. (After the exam one was required to telephone the instructor and report the questions). I personally had Professor Wood Jones and was delighted to be asked the very questions that I had been prepared for:
1. What would I have here (indicating his first metacarpal) if I was a marmoset?
A. Hair
2. What muscles in the body have an inter mediate tendon?
A. There are four (q.v.)
3. What are the attachments of the piriform bone?
A. There are 14 but 8 seemed to satisfy him.
4. What structures pass through the foramen magnum?
A.
There are 64 but a dozen or so was adequate.
It took about six months to get the primary, and I was now able to return to clinical work for the run up to the finals, and this seemed more palatable. I still had my job at Mary's but now benefited much more from it. Up to now the financial side had been the raison d'être but now outpatients, the wards and the operating theatres combined business with pleasure.
In a further six months or so I was ready for the final FRCS – two days of written papers and one day of "vivas" in operative surgery, surgical pathology and clinical cases (either a long one or a lot of short ones). At the end of the day, the day's batch gathered at the front of the main staircase and the numbers were called. When one's number was called one advanced to the secretary – who would repeat the number and if he said Mr Bain you had passed and went upstairs. If he said Dr Bain you had failed and went downstairs collected your coat and sadly went home.
Fortunately I had passed and ascended to the Council Chamber at the Royal College of Surgeons in Lincoln's Inn Fields. There beneath the famous Holbein painting of Henry VIII and the Barber Surgeons the council were lined up to shake hands and off for their congratulations. After a glass of sherry, we departed in a merry mood. I suppose they would be about half a dozen out of perhaps 40.
A celebration dinner was taken at L'Etoile in Charlotte Street as the FRCS was regarded as a major achievement. Bertorelli's was the venue for minor celebrations.
I was impressed by the comparative ease with which I passed the London MB BS, the Primary and the Final Fellowship. I decided to sit for the MS (master of surgery). I was sitting in the library at Mary's reading when Mike Reilly came by and asked me what I was up to (he was one of the successful candidates at the recent FRCS exam with me) I told him I was working for the MS – "not a hope" he replied and went on his way. about a month before the exam I got cold feet and retired. When next I met Mike he said "didn't see you at the MS exam – I passed it". It turned out that this was the last time that a written paper was to be set and future degrees were to be by thesis only. Thus they passed all candidates (five or six of them!)