- Contributed by
- hugh white
- People in story:
- H.A.B. White
- Location of story:
- Sicily, Taranto, Acireale, Straits of Messina, Catania
- Background to story:
- Army
- Article ID:
- A8922873
- Contributed on:
- 28 January 2006
Back to Sicily - recovery from jaundice
From the air the leg of Italy does not appear so mountainous as might be expected from slogging along its roads. There is a flat coast line and wide, fertile plains at Taranto. The plain is drained by several small rivers. Several Roman roads run as straight as rulers.
Crossing the heel we saw ploughed fields, orchards and forests. The hills now became mountains, light brown masses, now bare of vegetation and streaked with grooves cut out by winter's torrents.
It seemed barely half an hour before we were cutting across the Straits of Messina , flying down the east coast of Sicily. I had just recognised the rocks of the Cyclops, off Acireale, when the massive harbour of Catania appeared below us.
We turned in from the sea and made a perfect landing.
The situation now appeared farcical. I thought, during the last two days in Italy, that I had recovered, but the MOs did not agree.
No sooner were the four of us from 11 Field Ambulance tucked into hospital beds with clean white sheets - a luxury we had never experienced abroad - than the M0 had our urine tested. Mine alone was found free from bile and I was immediately banished from the bed to a stretcher in the basement stained with dried blood. Fair enough, but I was soon to realise later that fleas were rampant in the basement. It took some time and several showers to wash them off.
I was told that I would soon be discharged, but would have the chance to work on the hospital wards meantime, an opportunity available to RAMC personnel who wished to avoid convalescent camps.
Next morning, complete with discharge slip, I reported to the medical reception officer for duty, but he had just decided that no more RAMC personnel were needed. He sent me away, so I decided to wait for the other three who had contracted jaundice at the same time as myself, so that we could make the return journey together.
We all knew that transit camps were sticky quagmires from which return to the unit would be delayed, so I stayed in my basement, queuing for meals at the up-patient department.
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