On December 31, 1944, a critically wounded Army officer, “young and boyishly handsome”, was transported from the Colambra Ridge battlefield in Italy to the Surgical Ward of the 69 British General Hospital Ship in the Bay of Naples. Just as the nurse on duty set to examine his bandaged skull, a patient from the adjoining bed spoke up admiringly, “...these Indians are damn brave men. This one decided to attack a German tank all by himself... I was stationed in India a while back, Sister... these guys from the Punjab, fight to the last man... Maybe, I wouldn’t be here if he was fighting by my side...”
The new patient struggles to ask for a glass of water, after consuming which he “felt the joy of life flooding back into him”. When his eyes regained a semblance of focus, the first image surging his senses was that the Sister minding him “was beautiful... piercing bright blue eyes...skin delicate, with a dewy complexion”. Telepathically, the Sister also found her emotions hopelessly aroused towards the Major and to regain composure, she said, “I am going to have a barber come and shave the hair in and around your left ear so it can be better dressed.”
Shortly, the Luftwaffe, by design or accident, targeted the Hospital Ship St. David. Sister Norah rushed to the deck, saw the mayhem in the dark sea below of mutilated bodies afloat. She “untied her apron, grabbed an inflated rubber ring, closed her eyes, held her breath and leapt into the dark sea”. She reached a man floating in a pool of blood and dragged him to the fuel door of her ship where sailors awaited to pull the survivors aboard; by any measure, “an act beyond the call of duty”, but it remained unrecognised.
A month later, under Sister Norah’s tender watch, Raj bounced back and in the giddiness of youth, persuaded Norah to take a short holiday together to the Isle of Capri and the Amalfi beach, where they carried forward their friendship to the ultimate, logical stage, for Raj to declare that, “...no matter where our lives take us, I will love you…forever and always, Norah.”
The following day, Norah was moved to the Main Hospital at Rome and Raj flown to London for reconstructive surgical procedures. The war ended, both affirmed their willingness to serve on and Raj was put aboard a ship sailing for Bombay. Not knowing when he will meet and propose to Norah, he headed for the bar and sat down with a bottle of Glenfiddich.
Strange are the ways of destiny that Norah would be transferred to the British Indian Army Hospital, Bombay and put aboard the same ship. Raj heard feminine voices and several women descending the steps near the bar, and he was sure that he was hallucinating that the slim figure up front was Norah. He rubbed his eyes and heard a shriek of joy as Norah spotted him and ran into his open arms! Norah completed her tenure in mid-August in 1947 and on August 26, they got married and lived happily ever after.
Raj was assigned to the Grenadiers, commanded the 3rd Battalion, served as an Instructor at the IMA, Dehradun and as Grenadier Centre Commandant where he was the proud host on General K.M. Cariappa’s maiden visit. He superannuated as a Brigadier, commanding the 112 Infantry Brigade up in Sikkim in 1964, after which they settled down in their family cottage at Barlow Ganj, midway between Dehradun and Mussoorie.
I was a junior Captain when I met the Brigadier in Sikkim, but two decades later, commanded the 112 Brigade. Nearly six decades later, I chanced upon their engrossing biography, Raj & Norah, by their son and granddaughter.
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