My earlier stories describing some incidents during my time with the Free French Second Armoured Division in World War II ended abruptly with story No. 6. That story took the tale to a ward in Swansea hospital (where having established that I had survived being blown up by an exploding Sherman tank), I realised that, for me, the war was certainly over.
After finishing the other stories I thought that subsequent events, being hospital life, would be rather boring and an anti-climax after accounts of battles and other exciting episodes. Though several people have queried this view I only revised my own ideas after reading stories written by a friend who had a long period in hospital with leg injuries somewhat similar to mine.
It is very important to emphasise that the events recorded here took place over fifty years ago. Treatments and doctor- patient relationships have totally altered. In those days the patient was hardly a person at all. Doctors were 'God', although there were many honourable exceptions as I shall make clear. My first impression of hospital life was the total lack of communication between those in charge of my life and me.
After a few weeks this state of affairs was made very clear when, shortly after breakfast (such as it was) two uniformed ambulance men came into the ward with a wheel-chair. There then followed a furious row between the ward sister and the two men. Sister maintained that I was still far too ill to be pushed round in a chair. The two men based their stand on a piece of paper giving them instructions. While the argument was going on I managed to get a hand on the piece of paper and from it I learnt that I was to be driven to Bromsgrove Emergency Hospital as it was nearer to my home. This was of course, fine, but would have been nicer if I had had a hand in the decision. I could, at least, have been warned earlier about a change that would have been of enormous importance to me, to say nothing of Jan and my mother who had been bravely struggling with crowded unreliable trains to see me.