Altogether the makings were obviously there for a really tolerable camp if one were fit, and therefore, before going on to the daily life, let us consider the health of the camp and the conditions in the hospital a little more closely. For the hospital and the sick were always with us, though often they lay curiously apart, and we kept them deliberately in our mental backgrounds. In the Chungkai cemetery alone, the most beautiful corner of the camp ornamented with hibiscus hedges and rows of glorious cannas, zinnias and flowering bushes, were over 1,200 graves. Sometimes they had had up to a regular seven funerals a day, and still every day we had one, two, or more funerals. As the cortege marched through the camp, everybody except the Nips stood to attention as it passed; and as the body was lowered into the grave and the Last Post was played, the whole camp stood to attention again. Though most seemed to think this the fitting thing to do, there were others who considered it rather morbid; we all knew the number of very sick men in camp and we all knew the risk of infection was great, but this daily standing to attention several times of 10,000 men did rather rub it in.

My old Company Commander was in charge of the welfare of my regiment in Chungkai and he came round the hospital with us which contained maybe 2,000 really sick men under the charge of a very efficient S.M.O. and an excellent staff. The malarial wards were divided into B.T., S.T. and Chronic, and were packed full. The dysentery wards were divided into the usual Bacillary wards, and what was popularly known as ‘Amoebic Hall’. Because Amoebic dysentery was a slow and less deadly business, all the patients lived together, isolated from the rest of the camp, and many of them were fit enough to administer and look after themselves. There were several rackets connected with Amoebic Hall. At one time, when the up-country parties were in demand, a fit man could buy an Amoebic stool sample in a tin for 50 cents, take it along as his own to the M.O. and get himself in hospital. Concerning the cure for the disease, Emetin was the one and only drug and it just didn’t exist in sufficient quantity to be noticeable. Racketeers used to get it in from outside and offer to sell it to the really ill or worried at 10 dollars a pill. Of course the sick men hadn’t the money, so the racketeer had a friend who could let him have the 10 dollars – in return for a cheque for £10! And many were driven to accept these terms.