A Spitfire Pilot Remembers: Chapter 14 - Contact With Home
After being struck by a vehicle, John M Davis is treated for a broken thigh in a Cairo hospital. "Several of us went off in a taxi one evening to visit a nightclub. We must have looked an odd bunch, with crutches, splints and one with his arm in plaster and positioned up in the air... Baker, with his leg in plaster, found his young lady stroking the plastered leg, until she realised with horror what she was doing...''
The Air Ministry was very efficient in notifying next of kin of wounds and injuries, although I was not aware of this. On 30 September, 1942, the postman delivered a telegram. It is possible to imagine the grave shock of parents when a son is reported seriously injured and is so far away with no easy communication.
PRIORITY 71 = IMPORTANT CAPT DAVIS MC 13 HEATH DRIVE HAMPSTEAD LONDON NW 3 = REGRET TO INFORM YOU THAT YOUR SON 1262182 SERGEAT JOHN MORRIS DAVIS HAS BEEN ADMITTED TO ROYAL AIR FORCE HOSPITAL CAIRO EGYPT AND PLACED ON THE DANGEROUSLY ILL LIST ON THE 28TH SEPTEMBER 1942 SUFFERING FROM POST CONCUSSIONAL CEREBRAL OEDEMA AND FRACTURED FEMUR CAUSE OF INJURIES TO FOLLOW wEHN KNOWN YOU WILL BE INFORMED OF ANY CHANGE IN CONDITION = RECORDS GLOUCESTER
One air mail letter card a week was allowed. Sea mail letters had to go all the way down the east coast of Africa, round the Cape and up the west coast of Africa to UK. A letter I wrote on 27 November to give the full story finally arrived in London on 12th March, 1943 (nearly four months). It was lucky to have arrived. A parcel sent with all sorts of treasures within it, like the tapestry I had made in hospital and two lovely ivory elephants, must have been sunk en route.
My father - a great action man - must have gone to work straight away. He wrote to the company Egyptian distributors in Cairo, N & F Mohbat, to the relations of close family friends, the Sapriels, and to the Mosseri family, prominent Egyptian bankers, to tell them that his son was in the RAF hospital, Cairo. Thus I was the only one in the ward who had civilian visits. All the above came to see me pretty regularly.
The first letter I wrote home following the accident was an air mail letter card that was written with the aid of one of the sisters, Sister Callahan. It must have frightened them greatly, because it was an almost illegible childish scrawl.
RAF Hospital
Egypt
1262183 Sgt/Pt Davis
2/10/42
My very dear All,
As you all probably know, I am temporarily out of circulation in the RAF hospital with a broken thigh. I have only been in here for a few days and this is the first day I have felt like writing, but realise that this letter will be a great comfort to you.
I foolishly allowed myself to be struck by a car or lorry while we were en route for a cinema.
The doctors and nurses are all very good to me and there is nothing they will not do for me.
Tormorrow I am expecting some of the follows to visit. So far the only visitor has been the padre’s assistant. Please excuse me not writing more, but not feel like it. My love to all, your ever loving John.
A hospital library provided me with ample reading material, and local Britons made regular visits. Lady Tedder was one. Her husband was in charge of the Desert Air Force at that time. He himself came to see us on Christmas Day.
After Alamein the 8th Army moved across the Western Desert with great success and finally captured Benghazi, which was turned into another major base with its own port and RAF Hospital. Lady Tedder decided that her duty was to visit the injured in this hospital. So she was flown up to Benghazi. Sadly, her aircraft was either shot down or crashed, and she was killed.
By then I was already hobbling around and managed to attend the memorial service for her in Cairo Cathedral. Then I must have returned to hospital and written an air mail letter card to my parents, telling them of the wonderful Lady Tedder and the comfort she was to the injured in hospital.
When going through old papers in the loft during my 79th year, I was surprised to find a letter from Lord Tedder in North Africa to my mother expressing great appreciation for forwarding to him my letter about his late wife. He returned my letter to her, so perhaps I can find that too.
The following is an extract from the biography of Lord Tedder by Vincent Orange:
“He had insisted on a private funeral - as he had on a private marriage - but was obliged to agree to a public memorial service in the cathedral next day, 6 January. On that day, a young sergeant pilot, John Davis, wrote to his mother to say how shocked everyone was at Lady Tedder’s death. ‘She has been one of the
best friends the airmen out here have had. Those who have been in hospital have had especial cause to love and respect her, as she has made weekly visits to us. She organised our Christmas celebrations and gave a special party for us last week.’ Davis’s mother sent this letter to Tedder on 5 February and he received it in Algeria. He copied it and returned the original on the 18th. ‘I cannot say how deeply I appreciate the thought which prompted you to send me your son’s letter to see. My wife loved the service and our men; she thought nothing could be too good for them. It is good to know they loved her too. I am very grateful to you.’
Another regular visitor was a middle aged English lady who tried to talk with all patients. On her second visit she came to me and asked me if I was a David. After telling her that my name was John, we struggled along for a while before I realised that she was trying to ask me if I was Jewish. Getting conformation of this, she always used to give me the popular weekly magazine of the time, Picture Post. Hidden within it was a Christian religious tract. When she saw me at the Lady Tedder Memorial Service in Cairo Cathedral, she looked so overjoyed at having found me in church.
Progress was made and the weights gradually reduced. Finally the pin and splint were removed. The pin removal was painful, and the splint removal revealed a little nest of bedbugs that must have been living with me for quite a few weeks, since there were red bite marks all over my stomach and chest. Then a splint was fitted to my leg, and I was instructed to walk to the end of the ward. I managed it too, although ‘totter’ would have been a better word. The most enjoyable happening was a hot bath, with a nurse helping me in and out.
When the Moslem festival of Ramadan arrived, the daylight hours were fasting hours and work slowed down. At dusk a heavy gun fired, and it was possible to hear the roar of delight of the population as they rushed off for a night of food and drink.
Several of us went off in a taxi one evening to visit a nightclub. We must have looked an odd bunch with crutches, splints and one with his arm in plaster and positioned up in the air. Naturally, young ladies joined us and attempted to stimulate our interest. Baker, with his leg in plaster, found his young lady stroking the plastered leg, until she realised with horror what she was going. They managed to have several expensive drinks on us. I always believed that they drank coloured water.
