The battalion doctor decided about 8.30 one evening that I had probably got diphtheria. He ordered a stretcher party from the hospital and I was dumped down by the hospital reception hut just after dark. Naturally it was a rather frightening and depressing thing, for everybody knew the high casualties of the past, though the ward was strictly out of bounds. As the stretcher was put on the ground I heard one of the orderlies call out: ‘Dip case. Officer,’ and the reply: ‘O.K. Isolation ward,’ and then we jogged off again. The entrance to the ward was shadowed by clumps of tall bamboo, and was now in darkness except for the flickering lights of coconut-oil lamps made out of old tins. Three rows of bamboo slats faced us as we entered, but we could only see the ghostly shapes of the white mosquito nets covering the patients. Occasionally a horrid retching broke the stillness. I lay on my stretcher with my morale somewhere about zero.

There was a stir in the darkness and the sound of a very softspoken voice, and a few seconds later Ginger was bending over the stretcher and examining my throat with an electric torch. He didn’t express any opinion and he only spoke a few quiet sentences, but he had then, and always did keep, that invaluable quality in a doctor of both appearing personally interested in your case and at the same time inspiring confidence. His soft, level voice sounded as sympathetic as it did efficient, and after half a minute I felt as if a great pressure had been lifted off my chest.

‘Don’t worry, we’ll have a proper look at you tomorrow morning,’ he said, and I was lifted onto the slats between the dim outlines of two mosquito nets and left to my own thoughts. After a few minutes my neighbour whispered: ‘Is that you, John?’ ‘Yes,’ I replied, ‘who’s that?’ It was another young officer whom I knew slightly. I asked: ‘Where have you got it, James?’ ‘In the nose and throat,’ he said, ‘but there’s no need to worry any longer these days, Ginger’s got it properly under control. No one has died for several days, and tomorrow you’ll get the home manufactured serum.’ We tried to sleep.