Chapter 18

David returned to the Astor. For three weeks he spent his time reading, shopping and going to the theatre. Then, one evening he was sitting in the lounge of the Astor having coffee and a cognac when he struck up a conversation with an elderly man in his sixties who had served in India in the medical corps. The man introduced himself as Major Watson, retired.

He told David harrowing stories of the mutiny and of the conditions under which he had conducted surgeries in the field. He said that for every soldier killed with a bullet, three died of disease, most prominently malaria, tetanus, typhoid and dysentery. “Of course things are much better now with modern medicines and surgical procedures. The young doctors nowadays are much more knowledgeable than when I was out there.”

David indicated that he commanded two companies of Gurkhas on the North West Frontier, deliberately staying obtuse, not wishing to disclose any thing about Kanda. He rather casually mentioned his concern about not having a doctor or medical equipment to call upon when conducting operations in the field.

It transpired that Major Watson was conducting a series of lectures on tropical medicine at the London Medical College but the major said there were a few medical students interested in tropical medicine. He asked David if he would mind speaking to some of them informally.

David said he was willing, but how to dress a wound in the field was the limit of his medical knowledge. The major said their real interest would be his first-hand knowledge about field conditions on the frontier.

Two days later after dinner he found the Major with a young woman and man. The Major introduced them as Doctor Susan Fletcher and Doctor Oliver Penrose. David sat down as the Major explained to the two doctors that David served on the North West Frontier.

The doctors started firing questions at him, concerning conditions of water, hygiene, and available medical care. In addition, had he seen any cases of the common tropical diseases whilst stationed there?

David replied as truthfully as he could, saying that being stationed up in the mountains negated the risk of the more common tropical diseases. It was down in the lower elevations where they could be endemic. The problems of disease were quite often seasonal. In the dry season, for example, water was the problem, with typhoid and dysentery being the main killers due to the water becoming contaminated. People used the same sluggish dry season river water for drinking, cooking, bathing, and for removing human and animal waste. On the other hand, during the wet monsoon period, malaria thrived. Tetanus was always present, due to the fact that the people for the most part worked with their hands and often went barefooted.

Dr. Fletcher asked David what his main medical concerns were for his troops.

David replied that the main problem, or at least most serious, would always be wounds sustained in action from rifle and pistol fire, or cuts and stab wounds from knives, swords and bayonets. However, the most common injuries were from falls, or being thrown from a horse, resulting in broken bones or sprains.

Whilst the two doctors were talking to the Major, David found himself studying Dr. Fletcher. Her hair, he realised, was the same colour as Khan’s coat, a deep chestnut, which women called auburn. The colour complimented her dark green eyes. She was, David realized, quite pretty. Her manner, though, was quite direct and forceful, not at all like the women he had met at various functions in India. Those tended to be frivolous and giggly. At the end of the evening her handshake was firm as she thanked him for the meeting. He had replied he had been glad to help and, if she required any further information on India that he was staying at this hotel.

It was on Sunday morning he received a call from reception to say a young lady wished to speak with him. He found Dr. Fletcher waiting for him, dressed in a heavy coat for protection from the cold December wind. He guided her into the lounge where a waiter took her coat and took his order for tea. Once she was settled she began, “I do hope this is not an imposition mister ... I’m sorry, I don’t know what your rank is?”

David smiled, “It’s Colonel, in the 1st Khana Rifles.”

Her eyes widened, “You’re young for such a high rank,” she exclaimed.

David quickly explained about Kanda, the Prince and his commission.

“Oh, I see,” she murmured. “The reason I wanted to speak to you again was to ask about the Khyber Pass, but I don’t suppose you would know much about it?”

“On the contrary! I served for a year there with the 2nd Ghurkha Rifles as a Lieutenant. Why do you wish to know of the place?”

Her face became solemn, “My brother was killed there. We, my parents and I, discovered from a fellow officer later that William had been wounded and left behind when his platoon had to retreat from an attack by the Afghans. Nevertheless, they managed to find his body when they attacked again. If a doctor had been present, he may have saved Williams life.”

David’s jaw clenched. The golden rule on the frontier was never to be taken alive by the Afghans. If Dr. Fletcher’s brother had been alive when the Afghans found him then his death would have been unspeakable.

“Is that why you became a doctor?” David asked gently.

She gave a little nod, “I intend to go to India, to the frontier actually, to offer my services.”

“Doctor Fletcher, women are not allowed in the Army. Also doctors are some way back from any action at aid centres. The wounded are brought to them. Sometimes several miles separate them from any conflict.”

“But surely the authorities would accept help from a trained doctor,” she replied.

David looked at her. How could he explain the horrors of men with their entrails hanging out, or half their head blown off and their brains leaking.

“The sights of men wounded are not for a woman’s eyes,” he murmured.

Her eyes flashed in anger, “Colonel, I have dissected human cadavers. I know exactly what a person’s body looks like on the inside.”

“Dr. Fletcher, which may be true,” David replied gently, “but they were already dead. It’s somewhat different when the body is screaming in agony, crying out for his mother or wife, and blood is spurting all over you.”

Her face paled, and then her jaw stiffened, “What you say is true, which is why I am determined to go.”

“I’m afraid you will find that the British administration doesn’t share your liberated views, Dr. Fletcher. In some respects they are what one might charitably say, ‘behind the times.’”

As the afternoon had been drawing on, David invited her to continue their conversation over dinner. As they dined, he discovered she had studied at Oxford. Her parents lived in a small village in Dorset where her father was the local vicar. It seemed both parents supported her wish to go to India.