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Chapter 22
The war had ended inearly May in Europe, but in the Pacific arena, it dragged on. For three months after VE Day, Meg and her fellow Flying Angels added to the more than eight thousand patients they and 2MAETU evacuated and brought safely home.
But there was light at the end of the long dark tunnel of war and, in mid-August, Japan unconditionally surrendered. Celebrations on base were loud and long, but now rescue became repatriation and Meg continued as she had before, bringing home men, and a number of nursing sisters who had been prisoners-of-war. Skeletal and weakened by several years of deprivation, these were the ones who tore out her heart.
The DC-47 took off from Kuching airfield in Sarawak, Malaysia. Meg tested the exotic names in her mind. Already such names were beginning to lose the war-dread that had hung over so many parts of the globe. Maybe one day, instead of war-weary soldiers, planes would fly into such places with travellers for holidays. How Jennifer would squeal and clap if she could fly somewhere on holiday with Meg.
As the plane levelled out, Meg began checking her patients. One soldier had been watching her steadily since he’d been loaded onto his bunk, so she hunkered down beside his lower berth. ‘Hi, Sergeant – Westall,’ she said, reading the hospital label pinned to his shirt. ‘Everything okay? Can I get you a glass of Champagne while you enjoy your flight home?’
Sgt Michael Westall frowned and his gaze dropped, enough that Meg wondered if he was one of those soldiers who flirted with any female they met.
Except he didn’t seem charming. Just intense.
‘Are you by any chance called Margaret, Sister Dorset?’ His voice rasped, but he had taken shrapnel in his neck. Rough as his voice was, it was a good sign he still had any. With care, he’d recover.
She checked the bandage around his neck and met his gaze. ‘As it happens, I am. Was that a good guess, or did you ask the orderly?’
‘You looked familiar, and your badge says Dorset. A mate of mine showed me a photo of his fiancée. He was engaged to a nurse called Margaret Dorset, but he called her Meg.’
Meg’s hand dropped to the sergeant’s shoulder and she stared at him. ‘You knew Seamus? Were you with him when he died?’
More than three years since she’d seen him, Seamus’s name evoked a strange reaction: part awe that someone other than her remembered him, and regret that she hadn’t thought about him in a while. A long while. And that thought made her feel guilty for not thinking about him every day.
‘Held him in my arms while he was bleeding out his life and asked me to find you—tell you he loved you. You and your baby. What did you have?’
‘A girl. Jennifer.’
Seamus thought of me—of us right at the end.
There was comfort and an aching sadness in the knowledge, but not the gut-wrenching pain she’d known almost three years ago. Now, Meg accepted she’d moved on. Moving on meant she’d made the choice Vera had spoken about and chosen to live a full life for her and her daughter.
Meg came back to herself, realising Sgt Westall still looked at her, waiting, she supposed, for more details. ‘She’ll be three at the end of November. She’s living in Brisbane with Aunt Vera.’ Despite the lack of any blood connection, she thought of Vera as Jennifer’s aunt. In every way that mattered, she was. ‘I can’t wait to see her again.’
‘I’d like to meet Seamus’s daughter, if you’d let me? I have a letter he dictated to the nurse for his child when he knew he wouldn’t make it home.’
‘Sister?’ A patient near the tail end called for her.
If Seamus had written to his child, Meg would ensure the letter was saved until she was old enough to understand. ‘I have to check all my patients, but I’ll be back later.’ As she walked towards the tail, turbulence hit the plane. She grabbed for the nearest stretcher and a pair of brown eyes peered at her from beneath the bandage around his head. ‘Sorry, soldier, but I’m falling for you.’
There were chuckles all around and an invitation to “Fall for me too, Sister!” How she loved the game nature and wry sense of humour of these men. They’d been to Hell and now, heading home, they dug deep and practised their dulled charms on her before they met wives and girlfriends.
‘Next lot of turbulence, I’ll make sure I fall your way, Flight-Lieutenant.’
A cheeky voice called an order: ‘Present—arms!’
Meg joined in the laughter as seventeen pairs of arms opened wide to catch her. The eighteenth pair was encased in full upper body plaster, but their owner quipped, ‘Solid landing ground here, Sister.’
When they landed, every man thanked her and wished her well. Sgt Westall repeated his hope of meeting Seamus’s daughter before his stretcher was slid into the waiting ambulance. ‘Can I write to you, Sister Dorset?’
Before Seamus’s friend disappeared, and before she changed her mind, Meg scribbled Vera’s address on a piece of paper torn from the bottom of the list of patients and gave it to him. ‘That’s where I’ll be in a few months. You can write to me there.’
Sgt Westall gripped the paper, gave her a casual salute and the ambulance doors closed, cutting him off from her view. She headed back to the main office to hand in the paperwork.
##
Major Allen calledMeg into his office. ‘Take a seat, Lieutenant.’
Meg sat, curious about the summons. Her packing was almost done, aside from a few items hanging on the washing line, and Townsville awaited, followed by the train trip to Brisbane and Jennifer. The only thing she could imagine was an army snafu, a regular occurrence in these post-war days. ‘Is there a problem with my demobilisation, Major?’
Major Allen shook his head. ‘No problem with your papers, but we have a situation I’m hoping you’ll be able to help me with. Lt King, your friend, Cynthia, was rostered on the final round of repatriation flights out of Sarawak. She broke her ankle when she fell during turbulence on yesterday’s flight, and I’m scrambling to replace her. As you know, most of our angels have already left. Would you consider taking her place? It would only be for five days. Seven at most.’
While Meg’s every thought today had been for her daughter, how could she refuse? ‘No more than seven days, Major. Are you certain about that?’
‘I guarantee you a VIP flight to Townsville after this. I’m only sorry I can’t offer one all the way to Brisbane. So, you’ll do it?’
‘Of course.’
