It was an army hospital run on army lines but there were some civilian staff mixed in with the nursing sisters and MO's. The food was very good and I was surprised to find chicken on the menu quite often; iced water or a lemon drink was kept at the bedside in a little jug covered with a lace cloth to keep the flies off but there were no mosquito nets. At first I didn't realise what the high pitched buzz in my ears was until I had had a few bites. I recall two nurses, one was a Canadian, an army nursing sister whose name had a Ukrainian ring to it and the other was a South African civilian, Nurse Anderson. The latter who was probably a little bit older than I was prophetically gave us some words of wisdom. The ward cleaning staff was composed of black African men and the British not being particularly racist used to talk to them and give them cigarettes, something that they didn't from the South African whites. Nurse Anderson said, "You British are spoiling them, when the war is over you'll be going back to your own country and we'll be left with the consequences of your actions." Military discipline was upheld in the wards and when the MO and his following retinue of nurses came on the rounds those who could were told to stand to attention by their beds and those who could not stand were told to lie to attention. More stupidity. One hospital orderly amused me with his line of thinking; judging by his accent I asked him, "You are an Afrikaner?" "No, no, he replied, "I'm Dutch." "Surely not," I said, "the people of Holland are Dutch." "No, no," he said again, "they are Hollanders, I'm Dutch."